


wild horses

by honeyvoiced



Series: ❝ caught up in the rip ❞ [2]
Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Angst, Domestic Bliss, Drug Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Established Relationship, F/F, Family Issues, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:26:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 130,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21825112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyvoiced/pseuds/honeyvoiced
Summary: Kirby Anders, despite all of her smiling for the press, the sweet fan-focused photo ops, and all-around likable personality, was a fake.
Relationships: Fallon Carrington/Kirby Anders, Kirby Anders/Fallon Carrington
Series: ❝ caught up in the rip ❞ [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1572700
Comments: 208
Kudos: 116





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Amanda for beta reading, as always! Thank you in advance to anyone who reads this and takes this dumb ass trip with me again. If you haven't already had a chance to read it, this is a sequel to [waves never break](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18579424/chapters/44044207)

“Do you have any  _ idea _ what time it is? I’m guessing not, since you’re running the magic bullet.”

Fallon’s words came out as more of a growl than a question, and when Kirby looked up from the kitchen island to face her girlfriend standing grumpily in doorway, she almost laughed out loud.

“Morning, sunshine.” Taking in Fallon’s sleepy, disheveled appearance, Kirby gave her a once-over before flipping the blender in front of her back on and again filling the kitchen with a loud, metallic grinding.

Wincing visibly, Fallon came further into the kitchen and reached for the power cord, tugging it out of the socket and sighing happily as the whirring came to an anti-climatic halt. 

“Hey!” Kirby reached for the cord, but the brunette held it out of her reach. “I’m  _ trying _ to make breakfast.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend? How’d you get into my house?” Fallon danced away when Kirby swiped for the cord one last time before accepting defeat, and deciding to focus on the game at hand, instead. 

“Fallon,  _ enough _ .” Kirby tried her best to sound stern, discouraging the other woman’s sudden bout of playfulness in hopes of finishing the smoothie she’d been working on, but Fallon had other plans.

“She’s about this tall, insisted we buy a blender only to never use it, doesn’t eat breakfast food that isn’t covered in syrup, or fried, or both…” Fallon continued her description. She let Kirby stalk closer to her with a slow-growing grin, and the redhead almost forgot about breakfast entirely .

“I think I saw her,” Kirby played along, looking thoughtful for a moment before grabbing Fallon by the hips and pulling her flush against herself. “She was in the kitchen. Having sex, though. I wouldn’t disturb her.”

Fallon ducked back just as Kirby leaned in to kiss her neck, shaking her head.

“Nuh-uh. I’m going back to bed.”

“Even better,” Kirby insisted, leaning back to better look at her. 

“No,” Fallon chuckled. “I’m going back to  _ sleep _ . You know I have to meet with Will later, and then I have dinner with Steven, and I don’t want to pass out halfway through appetizers because I was up at… Four AM. Jesus, Kirby.”

Having peered back at the clock on the microwave, Fallon shook her head in disgust and gave the actress a disapproving look.

“Can you please cool it with the blender? At least until six?”

“Fine,” Kirby conceded, “I’ll buy overpriced juice on my way home, instead. Happy?”

“Very happy,” Fallon promised, closing her eyes with a tiny smile when Kirby pressed a kiss to the bridge of her nose. It only took a moment for her brain to seem to catch up, though, and her eyes popped back open. “Wait, on the way home from what?”

“I couldn’t sleep. Too excited about today, so, I’m going for a walk and then I’ll head straight to the office before my meetings. What time are you coming in?” Kirby could feel the nervous, excited energy buzzing through her again, now that the distraction that was Fallon was slipping away.

“Not until noon, at least. You’ll probably be done, by then.” Fallon slid past her and plugged the blender back in to the power socket, shooting Kirby a warning look over her shoulder. “I’m dead serious about this thing, Kirby. You won’t ever find its remains if you turn it on before I’m out of bed again.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Waving a hand dismissively, the actress rolled her eyes and reached over for the fruit she’d been preparing to throw into the mix before being interrupted, then popped a raspberry into her mouth. “Go back upstairs, I’ll be quiet on my way out.”

Holding her gaze for a moment longer, Fallon leaned over and kissed her in parting, then made her way back out of the kitchen.

* * *

The original Carrington PR office was already bustling with activity when Kirby arrived: interns rushing around in every direction, balancing stacks of files and trays of coffee; managers barking into their phones from the communal office spaces; and a seemingly endless marquee of entertainment news spanning across the wall of television screens that greeted the actress upon stepping out of the elevator.

“Welcome to the tenth floor,” Jeff greeted, seeming to appear out of nowhere before falling into step next to Kirby. He held out a paper cup of coffee for her as she turned to look at him, smiling.

“Thank you.” She took it gratefully, sipping it quickly before adding, “What’s the game plan, then?”

“I’ve got everyone lined up on schedule to talk with you. I’ll sit through the first few, unless you want to go ahead alone, and you can see who’s going to be the best fit.”

Jeff gently steered her by the crook of the elbow down another hallway, and a long line up of people came into view, most of whom were clicking away on their phones or reading files from their laps. Kirby recognized her own filmography list in one person’s hands as she stepped closer to the group.

“You wanna wait in here? I’m just gonna debrief.” Jeff held the nearest conference room door open and gestured for Kirby to head inside. The door swung shut behind her just as he started to address the group: “Alright, listen up, here’s how this is going to go…”

The room immediately made Kirby feel oddly sleepy, so she chugged from the coffee in her hands again to try to counteract it. Fallon had once joked that she had a Pavlovian reaction to boring meetings; that they made her suddenly want to sleep as soon as she was in any conference room, now, and she was starting to think that the publicist had been on to something. 

The door slid open again, and Jeff entered, followed by one of the other managers that had been sitting in the hallway when they’d passed by.

“Kirby, this is Alex. Alex, Kirby.” 

Shooting one hand out to grab the other man’s, Kirby smiled reassuringly before sitting down at the table. 

“Alex has been with Visight since its inception, and he’s worked mostly with drama and action actors for the majority of that time.” Jeff slid his resume copy to Kirby, and she dropped Alex’s gaze to read the page in front of her, instead.

She felt fidgety and distracted - it was awkward, reading his credentials over while he was sitting across from her. She’d never been on this end of the interview process before, and she was surprised to realize that she’d rather be in Alex’s seat than her own, especially considering that she was hardly listening to any of what was probably his very well-prepared pitch. It wasn’t until Jeff nudged her and nodded towards Alex’s outstretched hand that she realized she’d missed almost the entire thing.

“Thanks for coming in.” Jeff spoke for her, seeming to realize her distraction, and she barely managed to force a quick, polite smile before he was gone. 

“Should I bring another one in?” He asked, giving her a knowing look. “Or do you wanna take five?”

“Sorry, I was really excited about it this morning. I’m not good at the whole… judgement day thing.”

“It’s just job interviews,” Jeff assured her, smiling a little as he took his seat again. “You hired Fallon, didn’t you? Can’t possibly be worse than that.”

“Actually, my old manager hired her,” Kirby admitted, pulling her hair back and tying it up at the nape of her neck. She suddenly felt nervously warm, and had to resist the urge to open a window. “I’m sorry, maybe you could just take the reins on this, at least for today?”

“Sure,” Jeff reassured her, setting his own folder down on the table before preparing to call in another candidate. “I don’t mind.”

* * *

“Speak of the devil…” Will Chevale stepped into the elevator at the tenth floor of Carrington PR and perked up as soon as he saw Kirby. Slipping an arm around her waist in a quick half-hug, he stepped aside and made room for Fallon to follow him in.

Fallon took one look at the actress and laughed, shaking her head as she hit the ‘Lobby’ button on the control panel. 

“I guess that energy didn’t last, huh?”

Feigning offense, Kirby turned and then caught sight of herself in the mirrored wall, wincing a little. She did look a little tired, but she was sure it had more to do with her nerves than with the early start to the day she’d taken.

“How did it go?” 

Fallon’s question pulled her from her train of thought, and Kirby remembered why she felt so stress-tired in the first place.

“I think we’re going to take another crack at it tomorrow. We narrowed it down, a little, though.”

“What’s the deal?” Will interjected.

“Kirby’s manager is retiring, which I’m surprised she didn’t push her into sooner,” Fallon explained, earning a squawk of protest from the actress, which she ignored. “So we thought we’d move her here.”

“Makes sense,” Will hummed, his eyes darting from Fallon to Kirby. “Nothing too promising, though?”

Kirby shrugged, shuffling her feet against the tile floor.

“It’s just a lot to take in. Jeff’s been a heaven-sent, though.”

The doors slid open with a quiet ‘ding’, and Fallon gestured for Will to step out, first, before turning to Kirby.

“I’ll see you at home. Don’t forget that I’ll be late.”

“Wake me up when you get in?” Kirby asked, leaning sideways to watch as her view of her girlfriend began to slip away as the doors slid shut between them.

“Not a chance!” Fallon called, before Kirby was alone again. For a few moments, she pondered over how to spend the rest of her day. It was barely noon and without any other meetings - or Fallon - to entertain her, she could feel the impending boredom creeping in from the corners of her mind.

As the receptionist at the front desk called her a car, she took a few moments to wander the front greeting area. There were photos that she had hardly taken the time to look over in the last few years lining the wall opposite the door, and seeing the sudden expansion wherein photos with the Visight staff had been added after the takeover by Carrington PR made Kirby feel a swell of pride in her chest.

While the merger hadn’t had anything to do with her personally, she couldn’t help but feel almost as excited as Fallon - who still, to the day, tried to play it cool - and the comfort of being part of a real, family-like operation had done wonders for her existential dread and stress over the last couple of years.

Her career had taken on some massive change as well.  _ The Last Fire  _ hadn’t resulted in as severe of an Oscar campaign, which had given Kirby a considerable break once they’d finished shooting. As much as the idea of an Oscar had been itching at the back of her mind ever since she’d first met Fallon, after her first feature, it had been worth it entirely to have time to get to know Fallon on a personal level once work was out of the way. 

The first year of  _ them  _ had been a balance between work and their relationship. The arguments happened often, but they never lasted long. It was unlike any relationship Kirby had been in before - and she was sure the same went for Fallon, as well - but they’d found their footing around the time that her film shoot ended, and she felt confident that working together when she moved onto her next project would be a smoother ride. Once the nominations had been announced, the pair of them had stepped back from the spotlight to focus on themselves, and Kirby found herself falling harder and faster than she ever had previously.

Plus, it was easy to lose gracefully with Fallon waiting for her at home.

The public aspect of their relationship had been a different monster. While Fallon hadn’t insisted that they be shut-ins, Kirby still missed her deeply when she wasn’t on her arm at a red carpet or event. Their public outings were reduced to date nights, running errands, and the occasional weekend getaway - Fallon had insisted that it would be better that way, and she hadn’t given Kirby any reason to complain thus far.

“Kirby Anders? Your car is here.”

The receptionist’s voice snapped the actress out of her walk down memory lane, and she felt startled, like she’d been caught vulnerable. 

“Right, thank you.” Hiking her bag up onto her shoulder, Kirby weaved around the desk and made her way out the front doors, quickly pulling her sunglasses down from her hair to cover her eyes as she was hounded by a group of paparazzi waiting just outside. 

She grabbed the back door of the car for herself before the driver could even fully stop, and climbed in so quickly that she nearly caught her sleeve in the closing door. It was mercifully quiet, and Kirby gave the driver her address before slumping back into her seat boredly. An afternoon off was a nice treat, but having to figure out a way to entertain herself while Fallon was busy for the next several hours was going to be a chore. She thought about her abandoned smoothie project from that morning, but now that she’d already been to and from the office, going for a run seemed less fun than it had when she’d woken up with so much energy.

Tapping away on her phone to cue up something to stream as soon as she was home, Kirby paused at the sight of Alice’s face. A tour diary documentary - with a thumbnail of a black and white photo that Kirby remembered seeing hung up in the woman’s penthouse apartment. It had been months since she’d seen any reminder of her. While the world seemed to have nothing else to talk about for what felt like an eternity after their night together after the Oscars, she had eventually faded into a quiet media memory.

It had taken eons of therapy and grieving for Kirby to feel at peace, though. She expected to feel a harsh chill in the pit of her stomach as her thumb hovered over the thumbnail, but she realized, as she closed her eyes and scrolled past without clicking, that she felt comfortably numb. 

  
Closing her  _ Netflix  _ app altogether, Kirby tossed her phone onto the passenger seat beside herself and leaned back in her own spot. Fallon would probably be home in six hours. She’d find something more appropriate to do until then.


	2. Chapter 2

“I was just about to call you,” Fallon greeted enthusiastically as she answered her buzzing phone. The sun was beginning to set behind the stunning skyline views from her office window, throwing the entire space into a cozy sort of end-of-day glow. 

_ “I wanted to make sure you hadn’t lost track of time,”  _ Steven’s voice came through the receiver, and even though he wasn’t there, she could practically hear the amused look on his face. “I figured you were still cooped up in that office.”

Fallon glanced around at her surroundings, and then coughed softly.

“Nope! In fact, I’m already on my way. Where are  _ you? _ ” 

“Waiting for my car,” Steven sighed. “Did you talk to Kirby?”

Feigning disappointment, Fallon tucked her folders away into her lower desk drawer and locked it before answering.

“I did, but she’s been busy. I was going to remind her today when she was in, but she seemed really frazzled and I thought I’d let her have the evening to herself.”

“That’s too bad,” Steven hummed, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“Well, what can you do.” Clearing her throat dismissively, Fallon pulled out her office keys as she headed to the door. “I shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes.”

“You might be waiting for me. Apparently my ride is still ten minutes away,” Steven groaned.

“I don’t know why you don’t just rent a car,” Fallon began, ready to start a repeat of her favorite lecture - but Steven cut her off.

“I hate the traffic here. It’s one of the many reasons I prefer Atlanta.”

“That, and dad is all the way over here.”

“Like I said,” Steven agreed, “Just one of many reasons. I’ll see you soon - get us a good bottle. We’re celebrating.”

He hung up as Fallon locked the door behind her, his words making her pause in the hallway before hiking up her purse on her shoulder and heading towards the elevators. 

She thought about it all the way down to the parking garage, but as she climbed into her car and flicked on her go-to entertainment news station, her blood ran cold.

“Well, you  _ do _ know that the anniversary of her untimely passing cued the release of all of her unseen documentary footage from that last year before she -”

“Oh my  _ god _ , Ryan, we had a viewing party at my place this weekend and there was not a dry eye in the room -”

Quickly shutting the radio off and gripping the steering wheel, Fallon took a few calming breaths and closed her eyes. There was no way that Kirby hadn’t heard about the special, and even if she somehow hadn’t, there was  _ definitely  _ no way that thoughts of Alice weren’t weighing on Kirby’s mind. Stupid,  _ stupid.  _ She should have checked in with her - just to see how she was holding up. 

The concern almost made her want to cancel her dinner plans with Steven, but it was too last minute and she didn’t want Kirby to think she was breathing down her neck. Starting her car, she held down the brake and grabbed her phone to send her girlfriend a quick check-in text, instead.

_ ‘Just reminding you I’ll be home late. Love you.’ _

Sending it off, and mounting her phone on the dashboard, Fallon pulled out of the parking garage and started to make her way to the restaurant. 

* * *

Steven’s prediction about being late had been right, and Fallon ordered them a bottle of champagne as soon as she was taken to their table. It arrived just before her brother did, saving her from boredly folding her napkin into a thousand tiny squares to avoid obsessively checking her news feeds on her phone. 

Trying to be more  _ present  _ when she was off the clock had been Kirby’s idea. Fallon didn’t follow it as a rule, and had even told the actress at the time of the suggestion that she couldn’t just shut off her professional life - it simply wasn’t the kind of career that she had. She had to be available for her clients when they needed her, and in her particular line of work, that could sometimes be at any ungodly hour of the night. Still, Fallon tried - at least when it came to Kirby and Steven. 

Not being glued to her phone was a hard habit to break, but working on it had left her with the realization that she didn’t particularly like to be alone with her thoughts. While she could always walk away from a conversation that she didn’t feel like having, and avoid introspection and find outside distractions, there was nothing she could do to shut up her own voice in her head.

Thinking about how anxious she was feeling about Steven’s news - whatever it was - made her wish she  _ had  _ invited Kirby to come with her. She hadn’t meant to be mean or exclude her, but the less that the Carringtons were involved in her and Kirby’s shared personal life - not just their professional one - the better. 

“I’m sorry about that,” Steven greeted, making himself comfortable across from Fallon and smiling at her genuinely. 

She felt at ease just looking at him. He had always had that effect on her; he felt like home.

“Don’t worry about it. What’s the news?”

Chuckling at her impatience, Steven shook his head. 

“Let’s pour the champagne first.” He pulled one of the menus on the table closer to himself and glanced down at it as he flicked it open. “Too bad about Kirby.”

Fallon waved a hand dismissively. Steven was harder to lie to when he was directly in front of her, staring her in the face.

“Don’t worry about that. I’m just glad I get to see you.”

Smiling easily, he glanced up from his menu and nodded.

“You too. I’m sorry I’m not in town for long, this time. It was just important to me to do this in person. By the way, Dad doesn’t know I’m here yet, so don’t tell him. I want it to be a surprise.”

“Wow,” Fallon whistled lowly, a grin breaking out across her face despite her mock-surprise. “ _ I  _ get you first, for once? This really is a big deal.”

“It is.” Steven’s agreement was punctuated by their server reapproaching to open their champagne. Fallon watched as he squirmed in his seat in anticipation, biting back what was clearly a look of pure excitement. 

As their full flutes were placed in front of each of them, and their server made himself scarce, Steven cleared his throat.

“I’ve asked Sam to marry me.”

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Fallon had known. It was obvious - he had something to celebrate, he wanted to tell her in person, and first - and the champagne. Of  _ course _ he was getting married.

“Wow,” she breathed. She sipped from her flute to avoid reacting the wrong way. It wasn’t that she was unhappy, it was just - “A little fast, don’t you think?”

“Fallon, we’ve been together for years.”

Pausing to mentally check his math, Fallon exhaled heavily and slumped back into her seat a little. He wasn’t wrong - she just hadn’t realized how quickly the couple of years had gone by. She could still remember the first time she’d met Sam. o think that while  _ that _ was happening, Kirby was simultaneously oblivious to everything that was about to happen - it was jarring.

As if reading her mind, Steven sipped his own champagne and set it down, quirking an eyebrow knowingly.

“We’d already been together for a while before you and Kirby even started dating - and now you live together. Speaking of, it really is too bad that she’s sick. Should we get her some soup to go when we leave?”

Fallon steadied her gaze on him.

“I said she was busy,” she reminded him, fully aware that he was only trying to catch her in a lie. “Not sick.”

“Right, right.” Nodding sagely, Steven focused on the menu in front of him again, pretending to read it before bothering her once more. “Weird, though - since she’s not working.”

“She’s always working,” Fallon replied almost defensively, hearing her own tone and reining it in a little. “I mean… there’s always something to do. She’s looking for a new manager right now.”

“What’s wrong with her old one?” Steven asked interestedly.

Fallon waved a hand dismissively. 

“She’s retiring. Honestly, it’s probably from stress. I would have, too, if I were her manager that year.”

“You’re practically her manager, now,” Steven mused.

“ _ No _ ,” she snapped back sharply. “I’m not. And I  _ definitely _ don’t want to be. Seriously, publicist is enough responsibility, plus…”

“Girlfriend,” Steven supplied helpfully, and just judging from the smug smile that appeared on his face, Fallon knew that she was probably blushing.

“Right.”

“Well, I’m thrilled for you.”

Lifting his glass in cheers, Steven smiled again and Fallon felt herself smiling too, in spite of her embarrassment.

“To both of us having it together at the same time, for once,” he dedicated, causing Fallon to chuckle as she clinked her glass against his.

“I am happy for you. Really,” she promised.

“Thank you.” Steven’s smile slowly dropped from his face and he pursed his lips for a moment. “I’m glad I’ll have you on my side for the wedding. Someone needs to keep Mom from going overboard...”

The reminder of Alexis felt like a cold bucket of water had been dumped over Fallon’s head.

“...Though, I’m sure she’ll be busy harassing Kirby to put in a good word for her and won’t have too much time to try to micromanage our planners.”

Steven was continuing to ramble, but Fallon was hardly listening. Instead, she pictured a hundred and one scenarios in which her mother, who she was lucky enough to usually keep her distance from, would finally meet Kirby.  _ Kirby _ , who she didn’t even let get too close to Steven, or any other family members that she  _ actually  _ liked, aside from Jeff.

Like clockwork, her phone chirped from where it was still tucked in her bag hanging from her chair, and she dove her hand into her purse to grab it without thinking twice.

“Sorry, this might be -”

Waving a hand, Steven turned back to his menu.

_ [7:04PM] Kirby Anders: love you too _

The typing bubble appeared as Fallon read the text, but she responded before Kirby could add to her own message.

_ ‘no i’m not waking you up when i get home’. _

The typing bubble disappeared for a moment, and just as Fallon was about to set her phone down, it reappeared, followed by another message.

_ [7:04PM] Kirby Anders: please? _

Chuckling and tucking the phone back into her purse without answering, Fallon glanced up and saw Steven staring at her, a small wry smile hanging from the corner of his mouth.

“What are you grinning at?” He asked.

  
“What are  _ you  _ grinning at?” She snapped back, clearing her throat and looking at her own menu. “Figure out what you’re ordering sometime this year, please.”

* * *

Sitting up in bed next to Kirby, Fallon stayed as still as possible and watched her. Illuminated only by the light streaming in from the bedroom window and the occasional flash of light as her cell phone charging on the night stand beside her silently lit up with a notification, she looked like she was glowing. 

Her hair was getting longer. Fallon loved it - the versatility in style that the extra inches gave her, and the way that the redhead had to pile it on top of her head in a messy bun every night before she went to sleep to avoid waking up with it tangled.

But the actress also knew how tempting the very act of tying her hair up  _ was _ , occasionally finding excuses to do it whenever Fallon was nearby, or ‘absentmindedly’ pulling it up away from her neck, waiting expectantly for the brunette to cave in and plant her lips there.

Every little physical change Kirby had gone through over the last couple of years was much more apparent when she was asleep and still like this. Her arms, with new muscle carved in from a vigorous, stunt-heavy action shoot, wrapped lazily around the throw pillow that her cheek was pressed into. The pillow that Fallon was  _ constantly  _ reminding her was for decoration, not sleeping, even though the effort was futile. 

Fallon’s eyes trailed down her bare back - she’d made the switch from comfortable, worn out t-shirts after Fallon had given her her first silk chemise ( _ ‘Like being wrapped up in a cloud’,  _ she’d promised). he backless design gave Fallon full access to visually inventory the constellations of every freckle and spot that she’d already memorized on the other woman’s skin.

She’d been sitting beside her for a while, now, and managing to keep it together, but the temptation finally overcame her and she reached out. She brushed her fingers along the indent of her spine slowly, from the bottom of the opening of the chemise up to her neck, sighing when Kirby tensed, stirring awake and turning to her curiously.

“Did you just get home? It’s so late.”

The actress’s voice was croaky, and sleepy, and it took all of Fallon’s willpower not to kiss her right then and there.

“No,” Fallon kept her voice down, trying to lull the other woman back into her previously relaxed state. “I’ve been home for an hour or so.”

“I said to wake me up,” Kirby reminded her, rolling over fully so that she was facing Fallon, and adjusting her pillow as she closed her eyes again.

“And  _ I _ said no,” Fallon replied, brushing a stray hair back from Kirby’s face and then brushing the back of her knuckles over her cheek and jaw.

“We’re at an impasse,” Kirby mumbled, before exhaling heavily and seeming to sag back into the bed.

Knowing she’d won at least this round, Fallon chuckled and slid further down into the sheets, stretching out on her side and closing her eyes. The stress from the day seemed to be melting away as she listened to the other woman’s breathing grow more even and deep, and before she knew it, she was fast asleep as well.

* * *

Waking with a start no more than half an hour later, Fallon sat upright in bed and immediately grabbed the woman beside her. 

Kirby startled awake, whining loudly and pulling her arm away from Fallon’s grip poutily.

“Fallon -  _ why.” _

“I’m sorry -” she stammered, trying to explain herself while catching her breath at the same time. “I didn’t mean to - I’m sorry.”

Seeming to have woken up more coherently, now, Kirby frowned in concern and squirmed closer, reaching up and trying to coax Fallon into laying back down again.

“What is it? Bad dream?”

She knew it was meant to be comforting, but hearing the words ‘bad dream’ come from her girlfriend’s mouth made it sound so juvenile. ‘Bad dream’ was not an effective way to sum up the horror of the abstract images that her subconscious had just forced her into - even if she was already forgetting them, now, as she tried to draw them back to the surface and logically think through them until they were deemed neutralized.

“No,” she lied, taking another deep breath. “No, I - I wasn’t quite asleep and I had one of those awful falling-off-a-cliff feelings.”

Kirby made an understanding sympathetic noise in the back of her throat, finally managing to pull Fallon down beside her again.

“That’s the worst,” she soothed, her breath tickling the side of Fallon’s neck as she drew her closer. “I promise I won’t let you fall, though.”

Her words made Fallon smile, already feeling herself calming down. She felt too awake now, though, to fall back asleep like Kirby so obviously wanted to do, so she wriggled out of her arms and slipped out of the bed.

“I’m going to get some water,” she explained, sighing in relief when the actress just shrugged and rolled back over to fall asleep once more.

Stepping into the ensuite and shutting the door behind her before flicking on the light, Fallon winced at her own reflection in the mirror - she looked more tired than she felt, though she supposed that her overall stress could have been having that effect on her, too.

Resting her hands on either side of the sink, Fallon leaned on the counter and closed her eyes. She tried once more to remember her dream, struggling to string together the images of Alice, and Kirby, and then Steven and Sam - nothing made sense, though, not the way it had while she was asleep, so she tried to think of something else instead. 

The stone bowl of the sink in front of her, for starters. It had come with the house, and Kirby had thought it was  _ incredible  _ upon seeing it during their first viewing.

_ “We can get any sink put in anywhere,”  _ Fallon had reminded her at the time.  _ “Don’t make a split decision on  _ this  _ place because of a minute detail. That’s what renovations are for.” _

_ “I like  _ this  _ place, this sink is just a bonus. A divine sign, even,”  _ Kirby had insisted.  _ “Let’s go look at the yard.” _

That had been such a long time ago. They’d moved so far past sneaking around while deciding how they would publicly present their relationship. From secret dates under the guise of meetings and almost being walked in on by Cristal or Blake or whoever else - to this. It was nice, being able to slow down and have their own oasis.

Feeling her heart rate calm down and her breathing even out, Fallon stood upright and grabbed the glass from next to the sink, filling it and taking a quick sip before making her way back into the bedroom. 

Having unconsciously sought out the warmth on Fallon’s vacant side of the bed, Kirby was now sprawled comfortably across the majority of the available surface of the mattress, gripping both her own pillow and Fallon’s.

Smirking at the sight of her, Fallon squirmed insistently under the other woman’s arm and wrapped herself around her torso, tucking her face into her shoulder as a substitute pillow, and then fell back asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hm, morning.”

Kirby blinked herself awake and went to turn on her side to get a better look at the woman next to her, only to be stopped by Fallon’s hand pressing to her shoulder before she retrieved her coffee cup that had been resting in the middle of her back.

“Were you… using me as a side table?” Kirby couldn’t keep the sleepy amusement out of her tone as she took inventory of how warm the mug sitting on her back had left her feeling.

“Less of a reach, and you were being so still.  _ For once. _ ” Fallon took a sip from her mug, setting the tablet in her other hand on her lap as she turned her attention to Kirby.

“Hey,” Kirby protested, propping herself up on one elbow. “Sleep-kicking is a sign of a creative mind.”

“And stealing covers? What’s that a sign of?” 

Kirby considered for a moment.

“Good survival instincts, probably.”

Chuckling in amusement, Fallon shook her head and picked her tablet up once more, scrolling through her digital newspaper leisurely. 

It was comfortably quiet, for a moment, before Kirby remembered Fallon waking up in the middle of the night, and squirmed closer to rest her chin on the brunette’s hip. She waited a beat until the other woman looked down at her, then smiled reassuringly.

“Did you sleep alright?”

“What, you mean after waking up and consequently waking  _ you  _ up?” Fallon asked. Her tone was light and playful, but there was an unmistakable hint of ‘apologetic’ beneath it.

Kirby waved one hand softly, after taking a moment to detangle it from the blankets.

“Don’t worry about that. I went to bed early, anyway.”

“That’s not like you,” Fallon pointed out. She gave up on her tablet altogether and locked it, setting it aside.

“Hey, no, it’s  _ my _ turn to be concerned about you.” Kirby reached out as Fallon turned to her again and slipped her arms around her waist, pinching the silk material of her pajama top between two fingers admiringly. 

Settling in defeatedly, Fallon fixed the actress with an amused look of frustration and then tucked a piece of hair that had fallen loose from her bun behind her ear for her. 

“What woke you up?”

“I told you,” Fallon reminded her. “I had one of those weird… suddenly falling half-dreams. I’m fine.”

“Right, but those are a sign of stress,” Kirby pointed out gently, looking up at her from where she was propped on her torso.

“I really need to get you back out there. You have too much time to be researching all of this garbage when you’re not shooting,” Fallon mused. She looked off wistfully for a moment before letting out a sound somewhere between a scream and a laugh when Kirby bit down on the side of her waist. 

After struggling against each other for a moment, Kirby let her go, smirking at the wet outline of teeth on the material of the other woman’s top.

“Gross.”

Fallon’s reaction just made Kirby laugh again, tugging gently at the shirt.

“It’s fine, I think this should come off anyway.”

“I bet you do.” Fallon softly wrestled Kirby’s hands away, grinning despite her protests. “But I… have a spin class to get ready for.”

“Y’know,” Kirby thought aloud, watching her girlfriend squirm out of the bed and start to unbutton the shirt, “I don’t get the point of you driving all the way downtown, trying to find parking, and then paying someone else to publicly work out in some repurposed warehouse... to music you don’t even get to choose. There’s an elliptical downstairs, and I’m right here - we get into enough cardio as it is.”

Chuckling as she made her way around the foot of the bed and up to Kirby’s side, Fallon leaned over and let her shirt fall open, pressing a tiny kiss to the redhead’s forehead as she sat up straighter.

“I’ll bring home  _ Sweetgreen  _ for lunch. Text me what you want.”

“I want my girlfriend to stop leaving me to torture herself!” Kirby called out as Fallon turned to head into the closet, shutting the door behind her. 

* * *

**EIGHT MONTHS EARLIER**

Knocking on Fallon’s office door, Kirby nudged it open and poked her head inside, waiting for the brunette to look at her.

Lifting just her eyes from her computer screen to the actress, Fallon quirked an eyebrow and didn’t stop typing on her keyboard, even as they locked gazes.

“You’re early,” she noted.

Kirby shrugged.

“Only by a half hour.” Stepping further into the office, she shut the door behind herself and made her way over to the desk, standing beside it instead of taking a seat across from the publicist. “What’re you working on?”

“Press release.” Fallon turned her gaze back to her screen, but Kirby could see the way that her posture had stiffened and her eyes had narrowed. Her concentration on her work was much more performative, now, like she was  _ proving _ to Kirby just how focused she was on the screen in front of her and  _ not  _ the actress.

“Well,” Kirby propped herself up on the corner of the desk, looking down at the brunette and willing her to pay attention. “Can I help?”

“You know you can’t.” Fallon clicked around for a moment, then glanced up at Kirby again, dropping her gaze to let her eyes travel down her legs before she cleared her throat and looked at the screen again. “You can’t go entertain yourself elsewhere?”

Pouting, Kirby tilted her head to the side and slid up further onto the desk, planting one foot on the side of Fallon’s desk chair and shaking it back and forth slightly.

“I didn’t see you all weekend. Forgive me.”

Sighing at being jostled, Fallon planted her own feet firmly on the ground to keep her chair still and rested her wrists on the edge of the desk. An excited little thrill at getting her way shot through Kirby, and she had to resist the urge to applaud herself.

Turning her chair to face Kirby and catching her ankles before she could pull away from her, Fallon slid her a little closer to the edge of the desk and raised an eyebrow.

“You win. You have my undivided attention.”

“That’s very generous of you,” Kirby commented, as if it weren’t her intention in the first place. “It’s my professional opinion that you could use a break, anyway.”

“Oh, is it?” Fallon’s tone was suddenly amused, humoring her. It was a specific inflection that still gave her butterflies, though she was pretty sure that that was half of the reason why she still used it.

“Mhm, you want a massage?” She offered.

Snorting, Fallon shook her head and rolled her eyes. 

“Hands to yourself.”

“Says you.” Kirby nodded to Fallon’s own hands, still wrapped around both of her ankles.

“ _ One _ of us can be trusted.” Fallon squeezed her ankles lightly, smirking up at her.

“Oh yeah?” Kirby challenged, tugging softly at one of her legs to try to pull it free. “Which one?”

“Funny.” Fallon’s grip tightened and Kirby squirmed back on the desk to try to pull free in earnest, yelping in surprise and almost falling back when Fallon abruptly let her go. “Can you please sit in an actual chair, like a normal person?”

Fallon’s hard and fast rule about no sex in the office was reasonable, but it didn’t mean that keeping the thought in her head as much as possible wasn’t one of Kirby’s top priorities. Crossing one leg over the other, she watched the brunette struggle to tear her eyes away from her before looking at the screen again. 

She was about to let her be, and get up, when the door was pushed open and Kirby almost fell over herself to stand up.

“Fallon, I have the resumes you wanted pulled for the new assistant, they brought them to my office by accident and - oh.”

Cristal froze in the doorway, glancing up from the folder in her hands and looking between both women for a moment. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She fixed Fallon with a knowing look, and Kirby immediately felt guilty.

“You didn’t!” Fallon insisted, standing up as well and brushing her skirt down. It was a rare nervous gesture, and Kirby wanted to grab her hand to calm her down - but it wasn’t the time or place.

“Here,” Cristal held the folder out past Kirby, giving her a once-over as well before turning on her heel to head back to the door. 

Once the door was shut, Kirby turned to Fallon with a wince.

“Sorry, I didn’t think -”

“It’s not your fault, she should know better and actually knock.” Fallon waved a hand dismissively, though her words didn’t quite match up with the red blush on her face and neck, or the jerky, jumpy character that her movements had taken on. “Are you ready to go? We can just leave now.”

“Yes!” Desperately wanting to be helpful after causing trouble, Kirby cleared her throat and straightened her own skirt, giving her girlfriend a brief, reassuring smile before leading them out of the office.

* * *

“I thought you’d be gone longer,” Kirby admitted when the front door opened and Fallon made her way inside, slinging her gym bag over her shoulder huffily. Clutched in her other hand was a transparent shopping bag that swung dangerously back and forth, threatening to upturn the salads inside of it.

“Have you even  _ moved _ since you followed me out?” Fallon asked, glancing up to see Kirby sprawled out on the staircase with her laptop open in her lap. “What did we buy all of that furniture for again?”

“Keeping up appearances. In case we have guests.” Kirby turned her attention back to her computer to quickly wipe her history. The headline “ _ Son of PR Titan Blake Carrington, Engaged _ ” vanished from the screen. Closing the laptop and setting it aside next to the banister as Fallon kicked off her shoes, she asked, “Good workout?”

Grunting instead of verbally responding, Fallon held the food out for her girlfriend to take, and then reached up to pull the hair tie from her hair, her ponytail spilling loosely down her shoulders.

“I’m going to shower.”

“I want to hear about dinner last night, when you’re done!” Kirby called after her, as the brunette started the trek up the stairs. 

Waving a hand dismissively over her shoulder, Fallon vanished into the upper level of the house, leaving Kirby to head into the kitchen to plate their lunch. 

It was a little odd that Fallon still hadn’t mentioned dinner. As much as she kept to herself, she usually had at least some sort of update - what Steven was doing, how long he’d be in town for, or whatever new project he was working on. The fact that she hadn’t thrown Kirby a single bone yet was odd - and it left her wondering if she really had been stressed out lately. She seemed distracted, to say the least, and after waking up in the night in a panic, then shrugging off any kind of questions about it, she did seem more aloof than usual - which was definitely something when it came to Fallon.

Maybe Steven simply wasn’t staying for long this time. Despite how excited Fallon always was to see him, his shorter visits always seemed to leave her a little let down. Kirby had suggested once or twice that they make the trip to Atlanta themselves to visit him for a change, but the discussion had gone nowhere. She had to admit that she was curious about where Fallon had grown up, but every time she tried to push for a little more information, the other woman seemed to ice her out. It had been understandable at the beginning of their relationship - after all, that was the exact Fallon that she’d come to know during their professional time together, but now that it had been over a year - and they  _ lived  _ together - the amount of things that Fallon still kept close and guarded was beginning to look a little ridiculous.

Fallon had noticeably leaned into the being ‘known’ aspect of their relationship that Kirby always pushed at, but it felt like she was still on step one as far as the intensity went. Kirby could see the brunette often catch herself when she was about to shrug off a simple question or deflect any of the actress’s prodding, before trying to answer honestly - but that seemed reserved for simpler things. ‘ _ You were whining in your sleep, what did you dream about?’  _ when they woke up in the mornings, or ‘ _ Does that bother you?’  _ when the brunette would shift away from her absentminded touching. 

When it came down to  _ ‘What were your family vacations like when you were little?’  _ or  _ ‘What’s the issue with you and Cristal?’,  _ though, it was like Fallon had taken an oath of silence. 

She was snapped out of her thoughts by the jolting sensation of Fallon’s hand sliding up the back of her sweater, fingernails spidering a ticklish path up her spine and causing her to jolt forward with a gasp.

Nearly dropping the empty container from one of the salads, Kirby whirled around, chuckling in startled disbelief.

“I told you not to sneak up on me.”

“I said your name like, four times,” Fallon insisted, raising an eyebrow. The tiny, curious smile slowly faded from her face, replaced with a more concerned look. “You were really in your own head. You okay?”

“Just hungry,” Kirby assured her, grabbing one of the bowls and holding it out for Fallon to take. “Speaking of, you going to tell me how dinner went, now?”

Sighing, Fallon took the salad and turned on her heel to go and sit down. 

“That good, huh?” Kirby followed her and sat across from her at the smaller table at the end of the kitchen, setting her own bowl down and beginning to spear up a couple of leaves as she waited for an explanation.

It was quiet for a few moments.

“It was nothing. He’s just in town for a little bit arranging some stuff, and wanted to talk to me before he was subjected to… Dad and whoever else.”

Glancing up from her bowl, Kirby tried to catch her eye but failed - which was clearly intentional on Fallon’s part.

“Are you… lying?”

Finally looking up, alarmed, Fallon shook her head, her eyes wide.

“Lying? About what?”

“About what Steven’s really doing here.”

Fallon watched her carefully, with a sort of analytical, calculating look that Kirby had become all too familiar with over the last couple of years. She was clearly trying to see how deep the water was that she was treading, wondering if she would be overplaying her hand by coming clean.

“No,” Fallon finally replied, lightly, waving her fork-wielding hand dismissively. The gesture was a little too stiff, though, and continued for a moment too long. She had tells, and an unfortunate side-effect to ‘being known’, at least for Fallon, was Kirby finally learning them. 

The two of them stared at each other for a moment longer before Kirby shrugged and went back to her salad. 

“Alright.”

“Alright?” Fallon repeated, as if unable to believe she’d gotten away with it.

Kirby nodded. “Alright.”

The silence now was heavy and awkward - a far fall from the comfortable, hungry quiet that had been between them earlier. Forks scraped against glass bowls and when the air became too thick, Kirby stood up, chair scraping across the marble tile, to get a bottle of water. Fallon’s phone chirped on the table next to her bowl - it sounded much more jarring and loud than it usually did.

“Are you doing anything else today?” Fallon asked, as if finally only able to speak when Kirby’s back was to her.

“No,” Kirby reminded her. “Just a day off.”

“Right, well, I might have to run to the office just to make sure everything is ready for tomorrow. Some of these new temps are… completely incapable.” 

Kirby didn’t even need to look at her, this time, to know she was lying again. 

“Sure. That sucks, I’m sorry.” 

She returned to the table, placing a second bottle in front of Fallon’s spot, and tilted her head to the side as she observed her. 

“It’s not a big deal. I won’t be long. D’you need anything while I’m out?”

“Nope,” Kirby popped the ‘p’ on the word, spearing up one of the last pieces of chicken from her bowl and taking a bite. Covering the back of her mouth with one hand to speak around it, she added, “I’m going to be pretty bored without you.”

“You could always go over some more of those resumes that Jeff pulled for you,” Fallon suggested.

“Work? On  _ my  _ day off? No, thank you. We can’t all be Fallon Carrington,” Kirby protested in mock-disgust, feeling a swell of affection in her chest when Fallon chuckled quietly in response, despite her concern over being lied to.

“If you could, there’d be no me.” Fallon stood up and placed her empty bowl on the countertop nearby, snatching up her bottle of water and coming around the table to kiss Kirby’s temple. “I’ll be back soon. Stay out of trouble.”

“It’s like you don’t know me at all,” Kirby hummed, closing her eyes for a moment before reaching out and grabbing Fallon’s wrist when she pulled away to leave. Tugging her closer again and stretching up to kiss her properly, she smiled and let her go, waiting for the sound of her car starting on the driveway before rushing to grab her laptop again.

Practically falling up the stairs in her rush, she reopened her browser and typed  _ ‘Steven Carrington’  _ into the search bar. Her finger hovered over the ‘enter’ key for a moment, before she erased the text and closed the laptop again. Sure, it was public information, but if Fallon didn’t want her to know yet - didn’t want to  _ tell _ her, yet - then she probably had a good reason. She’d give it at least until the end of the day.

Setting the laptop aside, she pulled out her phone, instead, scrolling through her contacts until she found Kate - her former co-star Darcy Day’s girlfriend. Inviting her over with a promise of wine and a movie, she tucked her phone back into her pocket and headed into the kitchen once more to clean up the remainder of the wreckage from her and Fallon’s lunch.

* * *

Kirby had always thought that Kate and Fallon would get along, personality-wise. Professionally, they had nothing in common. While they were both the significant other of successful actors, Kate spent  _ some  _ of her free time at a part-time retail job in West Hollywood, a considerable difference from Fallon’s constant workflow that barely seemed to slow down even when she was home and off the clock.

Now, settled comfortably on opposite ends of the love seat that was positioned in front of the living room TV, Kirby and Kate sipped from glasses of the cheapest wine Kirby could find in the cooler and giggled over one of the few things that the two of  _ them  _ had in common: significant others with no ‘off’ button.

“I swear,” Kate laughed, pausing to sip from the glass in her hand, “He wouldn’t sleep until he’d read his sides  _ fifteen times _ , and then he kept me up, mumbling them in his sleep.”

“God,” Kirby breathed in response, swirling her own glass around as if its contents were at a level that needed to be aerated, “I hope  _ I _ don’t do that. I’ve read some  _ weird  _ script samples lately. I might be getting dumped, soon, if I have been.”

“Oh, I doubt that. You don’t buy a girl a house like this if you don’t plan on keeping her.” Kate gestured around the room that they were in, and Kirby leaned over to swat at her thigh in protest.

“ _ Hey! _ I also contributed to paying for this house.”

“Oh yeah? Whose name is on the lease?” Kate twitched her eyebrows, sipping from her glass once more before reaching for the bottle on the table for a refill.

Sighing in defeat, Kirby took the bottle from her as she finished refilling her glass and started on her own. 

“Fallon’s,” she sighed.

_ “Fallon,” _ Kate repeated mockingly with a grin. “Eugh, even annoyed, you get all… twitterpatted.” 

“That’s not a real word,” Kirby insisted.

“Yes it is! Haven’t you seen  _ Bambi?”  _

“No,” the actress deadpanned.

“Okay,” Kate pulled her knees up under herself on the couch and turned to face her fully, clutching her wine glass in both hands. “ _ Twitterpatted  _ is like… in love, but not real, deep love, it’s like… ‘floating on a heart shaped cloud behind her’ love. She can do no wrong.”

“But we  _ are _ in real love,” Kirby pointed out.

Kate shrugged.

“You can be both. You can do the mortgage and the quiet dinners together and whatever, and still think that the sun shines out of her ass. It’s actually what most people spend their whole lives looking for.”

“I do  _ not  _ think the sun shines out of her ass,” Kirby scoffed. “Have you met her?”

“No, but I’ve heard enough,” Kate smirked. “I know how scary she allegedly is, but you talk about her like she’s your high school sweetheart. She can do no wrong.”

“Okay,  _ that  _ is not true, she gets  _ plenty  _ wrong, trust me.” Kirby felt a little guilty as soon as the words left her mouth, but Kate laughing in disbelief eased her concern. 

“Oh yeah? So you  _ don’t  _ just let her get away with whatever she wants?”

Kirby thought about the article from earlier, and the way that Fallon hadn’t said a word about her brother’s engagement. 

“Sometimes. We have a good balance. She lets me get away with being an idiot, too.”

“Well, I didn’t say that the twitterpatt-er-ing had to be one-sided,” Kate reminded her, smiling and then leaning over to shake her knee reassuringly. “Hey. I was just kidding around. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know you didn’t,” Kirby chuckled, sipping from her own glass. “I’m fine. We just had a really weird conversation today and you reminded me of it.”

“About what?”

Kirby waved a hand.

“It’s… a long story. And a boring one.”

“Speak of the devil,” Kate hummed as the soft sound of the lock on the front door whirring open interrupted them.

The sound of stilettos clicking closer and closer along the tiled floor towards the living room made Kirby feel like a rescue dog that had been left at home all day and was finally getting to see their person, again. She sat up a little straighter, ignoring the amused scoff Kate tried to hide in her wine glass, and beamed hopefully as Fallon finally entered the room.

The brunette took a slow, long look at the wine, then Kate, then Kirby.

“I’m Fallon,” she finally introduced, holding one hand out. Quickly shifting her glass to her other hand, Kate grabbed Fallon’s hand and shook it, smiling.

“Kate.”

“I’m really tired from work and probably not much fun, so I’m going to head upstairs.” Fallon gestured behind herself at the doorway she had come in through, and gave Kirby one last look before leaving the room.

“I think I’m in trouble,” Kirby stage-whispered.

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Kate whispered back.

After walking Kate to the door, Kirby turned and stared at the staircase and tried to steel herself. She didn’t often feel nervous about talking to Fallon - she  _ was _ her girlfriend, after all - but she had been in a visibly poor mood when she’d come home and she wasn’t nearly as easy to manage when she was upset or annoyed.

She headed upstairs slowly, as if stalling her own fate, and found Fallon in her home office - a smaller bedroom that had been repurposed with a desk and a TV. 

“Knock knock,” she tried, leaning on the open door frame.

“I think just knocking would be more efficient. Your hands work.” Fallon didn’t look up from her computer screen as she spoke, but her unnecessarily sharp reaction made Kirby’s hair stand on end.

She pushed past the uncomfortable greeting and stepped into the office, coming around Fallon’s side of the small desk and dipping down to her level to see the screen. Incomprehensible work-lingo littered the email that she was reading, so she gave up and turned her attention to Fallon, instead. 

Placing her hands on her shoulders softly made the publicist tense up in anticipation, and when Kirby leaned over to press a kiss to her temple, she whined and pulled away.

“God, Kirby, you smell like you brushed with wine. It’s like 3:30 in the afternoon, how many bottles did you two have?”

Raising her eyebrows and rearing back, Kirby put her hands up in defence as if worried that Fallon was going to physically attack her. Fallon didn’t even turn away from her screen though, clearly unbothered by Kirby retreating, and continued to type.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing!” Fallon practically snapped. “I just didn’t expect to have to go in for some stupid meeting on my day off and then come home to my girlfriend day drinking. I thought we were past all of that.”

Her words stung - badly - but Kirby shook her head and ignored the jab, focusing on a different part of her sentence entirely.

“What meeting? You said you’d forgotten something for Monday.”

Fallon whirled her chair around to face her, and glared. The look made Kirby take a full step back. She hadn’t been on the receiving end of it in over a year. 

“Why have you been accusing me of lying  _ all  _ day? Projecting, much?”

“Are you kidding me?” Kirby couldn’t keep the disbelief out of her tone. “I have  _ nothing  _ to hide. You’re only getting defensive because you  _ are  _ lying.”

She watched Fallon’s face change from defense to defeat, and was sure that she was about to come clean about everything - Steven, whatever secret work meeting she’d had, if she’d even had one, and why she was so upset, now.

Instead, the publicist threw her another curveball.

“Why haven’t I met any of your family?”

“What?” Kirby felt herself relaxing at the genuinely  _ hurt  _ look on the other woman’s face. Something about the way all of her features had softened and her lip jutted out - not in the usual dramatic and playful exaggerated pout that she was used to, but a real one, made all of her irritation from a moment earlier melt away.

“Why haven’t I ever met any of your family? You barely talk about them, you’ve never let me meet anyone, I don’t get it.”

“Fallon, my family lives like halfway across the world.”

“ _ All  _ of them?”

“Yes!” Kirby could hear  _ herself  _ growing defensive, now. Fallon’s hysteria was having that effect on her. “I’m the  _ only one here.” _

It was uncomfortably quiet as Fallon seemed to roll that information - and what it meant - around in her head. Kirby had avoided mentioning it, too. Things were so good with Fallon - there had been no pressure or obligation in their relationship thus far, and she didn’t want the other woman to think that she had to be everything all of the time for the actress. They’d had enough of that nightmare when they had first started working together.

“Where is this coming from?”

“I don’t  _ know!”  _ Fallon took a step back and leaned against her desk, dropping her gaze to the floor. “My stupid stepmother from hell got into my head…  _ Steven  _ got into my head. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Kirby said the words before deciding if they were true or not, then sighed and held her arms out.

“Ugh, is this our first fight?” Fallon took a few steps forward and all but collapsed into the other woman, tucking her face into her neck and sighing quietly.

“I think so. I’ll have to check the records,” Kirby mumbled into her hair, then steeled her resolve again. “And it isn’t over, yet. Why didn’t you tell me about Steven getting engaged?”

She felt Fallon stiffen and then adjust her face into her shoulder.

“Fallon.”

“Give me a minute.”

“No.” Kirby peeled the other woman off of her gently to look her in the eye. “No more time to think, no more lying, just tell me what’s going on.”

“I didn’t want to tell you about Steven getting married because I don’t want to take you to the wedding and subject you to my… fucked up family. Alright?”

Kirby snorted, shaking her head.

“You could have told me that. I don’t have time to be insulted that you thought you couldn’t, right now, but you could have. I don’t want stuff like this to weigh on you. And I don’t love you lying to me.”

“I’m sorry.” It was one of the first times Kirby had heard her apologize so quickly and genuinely. When she realized that that was it - it was just an apology, there was no ‘but…’ or excuse following, she felt a happy little jolt shoot through her.

“Well?” Fallon shifted her weight back and forth, defensively crossing her arms over her chest. “Forgiven?”

Realizing she hadn’t spoken in a few moments, Kirby grabbed Fallon’s arms and uncrossed them, pulling her closer to kiss her.

“Of course.”

“I don’t feel good,” Fallon announced, pulling back. If it had been any other day, Kirby would have made a comment about her feeling ill from apologizing, but she bit her tongue and let the other woman pull free and retrieve her phone from the desk behind her. “I’m going to just lay down for a bit before dinner. We can talk about… wedding stuff later.”

“Looking forward to it.” Knowing Fallon’s distaste for people being in her office space without her, Kirby left first, letting the brunette shut the door behind herself and head to their bedroom alone.

  
Fallon ‘laying down’ in the middle of the day was its own cause for concern, but Kirby chalked it up to being overwhelmed with the stress of straddling multiple lies for the day, and let her be. If she was still upset when she got up for dinner, Kirby would dive back into it, but in the meantime, there was still a half-empty bottle of cheap rosé waiting for her on the living room coffee table.


	4. Chapter 4

Fallon had been enjoying her day off until Blake called for an emergency family meeting, and she’d been forced to put her mental ‘weekend detox’ on hold in favour of sitting in traffic. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach that maybe he had said something to Steven - something about not approving or wanting to take over the planning in the way that he loved to micromanage. Steven responding to the text, CCing everyone, with a casual and comfortable reply made her feel a little better - but the idea of a family meeting still bothered her to no end. 

As she weighed the options of staying home and being prodded at by her nosy girlfriend, or leaving the comfort of her house to drive all the way to Beverly Hills just to be lectured by her father, Fallon began to wish that she had just gone into the office that morning like any other day. It wasn’t that she didn’t  _ want _ to spend time with Kirby, but with the actress between shoots, they had been seeing more and more of each other. It was pleasant, but it also meant that she felt a little less guilty about not being with her every second of the day when they finally had the same day off. 

The longer drives were much nicer when she had company. She insisted that Kirby irritated her to no end when they were in the car together, but when she was alone without work calls to return and news to listen to, she missed her. 

Despite her warning early on in their professional relationship, Kirby had taken to unrelentingly fiddling with the radio whenever they drove together, singing along, changing the station several times to avoid songs she was tired of, and whining whenever Fallon took over the controls to listen to the news. It was endearing, if not annoying, and whenever Kirby wasn’t around, Fallon found herself filling the void by changing the stations constantly herself.

A lot of her habits had changed since she and Kirby had grown closer. She finally let herself stay in bed for a little longer on the mornings that she had no where to be;she actually kept up with television shows, outside of simply keeping a curious eye on past or potential clients; she’d stopped needing to fill silences the same way that she’d mocked Kirby for. Just existing with her,  _ near _ her, was enough.

They’d become so in tune with each other that it really was no wonder Fallon was feeling jumpy and uncomfortable in her own home just from hiding one simple truth from the other woman. Kirby knew her inside and out - or at least, was well on her way to it - and while it was nice sometimes to realize that she could open up and the other woman wouldn’t run from her, it had its downsides, too. She was hard to lie to, and no one would listen to her complain about it - she shouldn’t have been lying to her in the first place, and she  _ knew  _ that, but she still would have liked to have the option. 

Rolling down the driver’s side window and resting her arm outside of the car, Fallon drummed her fingertips against her side view mirror as the traffic slowed and sighed heavily. Her phone chirped on the passenger seat beside her, but she ignored it - she would get there when she got there. It wouldn’t be a family meeting without her, anyway. Or, maybe she’d get lucky this time and they’d start without her.

Glancing around at her surroundings, a billboard only slightly obscured by a nearby condo complex caught her eye, and she grinned at the sight of Will Chevale’s smirking face staring down at the traffic around her. Snatching her phone up to take a quick photo, she mentally patted herself on the back. She had pushed hard for that specific photo to be the final choice, and it looked perfect - exactly like she’d been picturing. Frankly, her talents were being wasted just cleaning up small-time scandals and helping choose which promotional material to release while she waited for awards season. 

Last year, she had gone in knowing that Kirby wasn’t going to be taking home an Oscar. In fact, it had been a common nighttime pre-bed ritual to check in with each other and discuss how Kirby was feeling about all of it, but ultimately she had agreed with the prediction. Fallon would get her the nomination, provided that she promised not to get her hopes up. The public was ready to see her again, but not  _ that  _ ready.

Rehabilitating her public image had taken a little work, but with Fallon’s arsenal of journalists and event coordinators, she had managed to have the actress back in seemingly everyone’s good graces by the time she had finished shooting  _ The Last Fire  _ and it had premiered. That had been one of her favourite success stories, and she’d been hoping to continue to ride the wave of momentum with another nomination the year after - if only Kirby managed to actually find a script that she liked and stuck with it.

She didn’t want to force it, but working with Kirby had become predictable - and predictable was a breath of fresh air when it came to her line of work. 

Cristal had suggested that she take on new clients during the down season, but Fallon found it easier to simply take on small jobs here and there as opposed to working on building up an entire new relationship with someone. She and Kirby obviously had an understanding, and she and Will had managed to hit a perfect sweet spot with their professional relationship, too, keeping in sync with similar career-minded goals. The last thing Fallon needed was another Kirby-from-two-years-prior waltzing into her office and causing a hurricane everywhere they went. A challenge  _ could _ be nice, but it was also nice to be able to breathe at work for once.

Sighing and flicking on her signal light, Fallon turned left where she  _ would  _ have turned right if she were heading into the office, and continued on her way to her father’s house. 

Steven never stayed with her when he was in town anymore. He did once, just to make sure that she was properly settled into her new condo when she had first moved out, but after that, they’d had a silent agreement to let her have her space. Plus, as much as Steven loved to advertise his independence, Fallon knew that, deep down, the creature comforts of her dad & Crital’s twelve bedroom Beverly Hills property still sucked Steven back in every time. 

The remainder of the drive seemed to go by a little more quickly - the traffic had dissipated a little, and by the time Fallon reached the gated community that housed her destination, she was the only car in sight. 

  
She let herself in, parking her car close enough to the doors that she could make a clean, quick getaway if need be, and followed the sound of her father’s voice to the sitting room.

Steven was already there, and immediately stood up from the couch he was snugly tucked into the corner of to come and greet her. He didn’t offer any explanation other than a quick, apologetic look before he took his seat again, but before Fallon could ask, Cristal appeared with a tray of glasses and set them on the table in the middle of the room.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Blake offered, though something in his tone was underhandedly disappointed. “I know how busy you’ve been.”

If he knew what her work schedule was like, he’d have known exactly how  _ not  _ busy she was, and she was certain that that was the case.

“I don’t have long,” Fallon half-lied, raising an eyebrow and refusing to sit down. 

“Well, this won’t take long. Not if it doesn’t have to,” Blake’s words were surprisingly threatening, and Steven leaned out of his spot to wordlessly hand Fallon one of the glasses from the tray. 

She sipped it without thinking, wincing a little at the sickly sweet flavour of whatever concoction was in the hurricane glass. Cristal’s homemaking was going to kill her.

“Have you talked to Kirby about the wedding?” Steven asked, and suddenly all eyes were on Fallon again.

“I… no, she was asleep when I got in.” 

“You’ve had all morning,” her brother pointed out.

“Like I said. She’s busy.  _ I’m  _ busy. Why, what’s the issue?”

“We just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page,” Blake spoke next. “Steven has decided he wants minimal press involvement and that’s a lot easier when there are fewer guests pulling a spotlight.”

“You want me to uninvite my girlfriend?” Fallon clarified.

“Uninviting implies that you bothered to invite her,” Steven pointed out, but then shook his head. “And no, actually, the opposite. We were hoping to actually… spend some time with her.”

“As a family,” Cristal clarified.

“We need a united front, especially when it comes to… other people who managed to make the guest list.” Blake sipped his own drink, wincing similarly to how Fallon had, but said nothing.

“We’re not going to war,” Steven sighed. “I just… you know how Mom can be. I want everyone to be ready - including Kirby.”

Fallon softened a little, turning her attention back to her brother. 

“I want that, too,” she assured him. “I don’t want anything ruining this for you.” 

She grabbed his hand softly and squeezed it as she settled on a perch on the arm of the couch he was on. 

“But she might be busy. I’ll look into her schedule.”

“Don’t bother,” Cristal interjected smoothly. “I can do it myself. From here. Shall I?” 

Pulling her phone from her pocket, Cristal began tapping away at the screen with one thumb, causing Fallon to quickly backtrack in a panic.

“She has other - obligations.  _ I  _ have other - okay,  _ stop!”  _

Cristal lowered her phone and caught her gaze. Fallon desperately wanted to throw the remainder of her juice-mixed cocktail into her face to wash the subtly smug look from it.

“ _ I  _ will talk to Kirby,” Fallon snapped. “No one else.”

“Alexis will feel ambushed no matter what.” Blake’s words were honest, this time. Warning, and stern, but concerned at their heart. “The sooner she knows that we have her back, the better.”

Steven sighed and Fallon could almost  _ hear  _ the sarcastic response on the tip of his tongue.  _ The sooner Fallon believes it, the better.  _ He said nothing, glancing up and doing a double take as he caught her eye.

“You can’t treat Mom like she’s the enemy. If you go in on the offensive, of  _ course  _ she’s going to go on the defensive.” Steven rubbed his temple as he spoke, clutching his still full glass in his hand. When he was stressed enough to drink, it was concerning enough. When he was too stressed to remember to drink, it was usually worse.

“Well, I can’t offend her if I avoid her the entire time,” Fallon mused, rolling her eyes when Steven shot her an unimpressed look. “Okay, fine. I’ll… tell her whatever work she’s had done most recently looks great, we’ll pretend to care about catching up, and then I’ll leave. Fair?”

“You have to make an effort.” Steven’s words were stern - uncharacteristically so - and it made Fallon pause for a moment before sipping her drink again to shake off the uncomfortably ‘told’ feeling it had given her.

“ _ She’s _ not going to make the effort, why is it my job?”

“ _ Because  _ she’s not going to. This is my wedding, Fallon. I’m only doing this once.”

Fallon leaned over and knocked her fist against the edge of the wooden dining table in front of them.

“I will… try.  _ Once.  _ She gets  _ one  _ chance.”

“Thank you,” Steven sighed, turning back to Blake and Cristal. “We should probably talk travel arrangements.”

* * *

“So when are you planning to tell Kirby?” Cristal sidled up next to Fallon as she dug into her purse for her car keys.

“I told you that she’s been busy.”

“No, she hasn’t. And neither have you.” 

Standing up to her full height and turning to face her stepmother, Fallon quirked one eyebrow and hardened her glare. 

“I don’t think this is any of your business.”

Cristal sighed, and Fallon dropped her gaze again to resume digging through her purse. She didn’t have time for another weak attempt at stepmothering from the woman in front of her.

“I plan to talk to her when we have time to talk about it.”

“You’d be upset if she did the same thing to you,” Cristal pointed out. “What if one of her siblings was getting married and she went without you?”

“She doesn’t have any,” Fallon snapped. “And she and I have a good thing going. I don’t mess with her family, and she doesn’t mess with mine.”

“You live together,” Cristal huffed. “Surely by  _ now  _ you’ve - you know what? You were right. It’s not my business. Forget it.”

“Happily.” Fallon hiked her bag up and brandished her keys, crossing her arms. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the only day off I’ll be having for a while.”

“Hey.” Cristal caught her by the crook of the elbow as she went to walk past, and quickly let go of her in response to the look of sheer disbelief and disgust that Fallon gave her. “I just - you should talk to her. We  _ do _ want to get to know her better.” 

“All things considered,  _ you’re _ still  _ technically  _ new here,” Fallon pointed out. “So I’ll save the condescension and barrel straight into blunt:  _ I  _ know what I’m doing by choosing my  _ own  _ timing for all of this, and  _ you  _ have no idea what you’re asking me to do. It was nice catching up.”

Turning around to head for the front door, Fallon bumped directly into Steven and let out a strangled noise of surprise.

“Hey, can I talk to you before you take off?”

“Not if it’s about Kirby,” Fallon sing-songed sarcastically, feeling herself growing more and more frustrated. “Don’t you have a wedding to plan? What  _ is _ it with you people, today?”

Sidling past her brother and finally,  _ finally  _ setting on a clear path to the front door, Fallon let herself out and leaned against the closed door behind her, taking a deep breath of fresh air. She couldn’t believe that there was ever a time she had felt lonely after moving into her own place. 

Thinking about ‘her own place’ made her think of Kirby, and for once, she felt dread instead of excitement at the idea of going home to her. It wasn’t a conversation that she was ready to have - they’d been together for so long that it  _ would  _ be extremely weird not to bring her to the wedding; however, it hadn’t been long enough for Fallon to sink in and start opening up about her family. If Steven had been more considerate, he’d have arranged the engagement for another six or seven months down the line.

Maybe Kirby would be out when she got home, though. Or, better yet, she’d be tired and not in the mood for talking, anyway. Cristal’s accusation that Fallon would have been upset if the situation were reversed hung in her mind, though, and took serious effort to shake off as she got into her car and started the engine. 

The talk could wait. She was talked out and tired of being interrogated, anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

With all the talk of Steven’s engagement being put on the back burner, Kirby was left with no other choice but to fling herself fully back into work. Jeff greeted her at the door, for a change, when she walked into the office first thing on Monday morning, and held out a small stack of courier packages for her.

“These came for you. Scripts,” Jeff greeted, turning as she took the packages and falling into step beside her. “Sorry about the wait, I guess they’ve just been sitting behind the desk because they didn’t have an actual team to send them to.”

Kirby sighed, pulling the top package from the pile and trying to tear the heavy-duty privacy envelope open with her teeth.

“I didn’t peek, but… I sorted them by studio based on the return address. I  _ think  _ that the top three should be more action - that’s what you were looking for, right?”

Kirby paused from where she was losing the fight against the packaging and raised her eyebrows. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she replied, her words muffled around the plastic and paper in her mouth. “Thank you.”

“Why not, right?” Jeff smiled, glancing at her for a moment before they reached the elevators, and swiped his key fob. “You’ve got enough on your plate, and I figure - the fewer distractions, the easier it’ll be to make this next choice, and then you can focus on that one.” He tapped the top of the pile of scripts in her arms and then gestured for her to step into the elevator, following behind her.

“You’re too good to me,” she insisted, rebalancing the scripts and then hiking her purse up further onto her shoulder.

Jeff didn’t have a chance to answer before they were interrupted by a wall of sound when the elevator doors slid open on the tenth floor.

Prospective managers-for-hire lined the hallway that they headed down towards the conference room, but it was now becoming so routine that Kirby didn’t even flinch at the commotion. They’d spent more than enough time trying to find her a replacement, and now she was beginning to double back and doubt her previous rejections, too. She knew that she was overthinking it, and quite honestly it was the sort of thing she’d come to Fallon for help with, but her publicist-slash-girlfriend seemed to have enough on her plate as it was, both professionally and personally, so she tried to keep her concerns to herself. 

She and Jeff settled in at the head of the conference table, and he slid the pile of resumes across the sleek glass surface towards her. 

“I would say I have a good feeling about a few of these, but my track record with you would apparently say otherwise.”

Jeff’s words were light, and teasing, but there was a hint of impatience underneath them, making Kirby feel guilty for how long she’d strung this whole charade along.

“Sorry,” she hummed. “I have a good feeling about today, too.”

Jeff smiled tightly, then gestured to the assistant outside of the glass door to send in the first recruit.

* * *

The walk back to Jeff’s office was uncomfortably quiet. Once he and Kirby had left the conference room after yet another disappointing set of interviews, he’d suggested that they go back to his office and have a drink to think it over - and she was convinced he was going to try to get her to stop stalling and just  _ pick  _ someone. 

She wasn’t ready, though. Every person that Jeff had brought in was talented and resourceful; any one of them would have been a massive help to her and a good addition to her team, but she’d known her previous manager for so long, and had such a good connection with Fallon - even before they started dating - that bringing in a stranger just felt  _ off. _

The halls leading to Jeff’s office space were lined with large, blown-up photos of various clients that were managed in the same building. Kirby recognized a lot of the faces - actors and musical artists, a few models, and even reality stars. They’d built up a multi-media empire, and it often wasn’t until Kirby was staring right at the photographic evidence that she realized just how far their influence had reached. 

Her eyes flicked from each familiar face to the next as she walked, training slowly on one that she only vaguely remembered. 

Jeff slowed to a stop beside her.

“I know him. I think.”

“That’s Lewd - the producer?”

Kirby frowned thoughtfully before her eyes widened and she turned to Jeff properly.

“He was Alice’s friend.”

“Alice had a lot of friends,” Jeff pointed out, gently taking her by the crook of the elbow to lead her towards the office again. “Kori swiped him last year.”

“Fallon never mentioned it,” Kirby hummed, feeling an uncomfortable clamminess starting to develop in her hands. She tried to walk straight - one foot in front of the other - and appear as normal as possible despite the panic that was beginning to set in.

She almost stumbled into Jeff’s office as he opened the door for her, righting herself and taking a seat just as her head started to throb. 

“He’s the one… releasing all of Alice’s old stuff, right?”

Jeff rounded his desk and took a seat, glancing at Kirby curiously before seeming to realize what she was asking.

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“And he’s part of the documentary.”

“Did you… watch that documentary?” Jeff eyed Kirby, pausing from where he was about to undo the button of his suit jacket. 

“No,” Kirby shook her head, watching the surprisingly concerned look fade from his face. “No, I haven’t, I just - hear about it. All the time. It’s sort of everywhere.”

Jeff gave her a sympathetic look as she pulled her purse up onto her lap.

“Drink?” He offered, standing again.

“Please,” Kirby breathed, digging in her bag and pulling out the bottle that she was looking for. She hadn’t touched the anxiety medication she’d been prescribed in almost a year. Even when she first got it, she’d only taken it rarely, and now her name and the date were almost totally worn down from the label.

Saying a silent prayer that they hadn’t expired, Kirby shook two pills out into her hand and reached for the glass that Jeff handed her.

He watched her but said nothing, though despite his lack of outward judgment, Kirby still rushed to defend herself as she tossed back both pills with a sip from her tumbler.

“Don’t tell Fallon.”

That wrung a small chuckle out of him, and he shook his head.

“Look, I get it. You have a lot on your plate right now.” Jeff sipped from his own glass and leaned back in his seat. “This can’t all be easy. Trying to pick your next project, reorganize your team, and deal with all of the… Alice stuff.”

“I’m fine!” Kirby insisted, so quickly that she almost cut him off. “Seriously, there’s no…  _ Alice _ stuff. It’s just probably always going to be weird, y’know?”

Jeff eyed her suspiciously, then shrugged.

  
“Sure. If you say so.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Kirby tossed the pill bottle back into her bag and dropped it to the floor.

“I’m ready for it to be over - and I’m ready to get back to work,” Kirby promised, smiling hopefully before taking a much more generous sip of her drink.

“We don’t have to do this today, if you’re not feeling it,” Jeff promised back. “I don’t want you to rush into making a decision and then end up regretting it later on. Trust me, I don’t… have that many people on my roster, right now. I have the time for you, and for this.”

Kirby watched him over the rim of her glass, feeling a comfortable warmth blanket over her. The combination of his reassurance and the anxiety medication made her feel better - no longer worried about work, or  _ Lewd,  _ or anything else.

“Would you do it?”

Jeff glanced down at the stack of paper in front of himself, distractedly straightening it.

“You know it has to be your choice.”

“No,” Kirby corrected, shaking her head and sitting up straighter, “That’s not what I meant. I mean manage me. Would you do it?”

Jeff glanced up and caught her eye, one eyebrow raising slowly. 

“Wait, are you serious?”

“Of course I am,” Kirby chuckled, reaching out to set her glass on the edge of his desk. “Look, we work together fine, you’re familiar, and you said it yourself - you  _ have  _ time for me.”

“Y’know,” Jeff mused, “Fallon and I are in a really good place right now, and I feel like a lot of that can be attributed to how many floors of distance are between us.”

Kirby rolled her eyes.

“You’re both adults. I’m asking formally. Will you do it? Because I’m serious about the offer.”

Jeff rolled the idea around in his head for a moment.

“I’ll do it. For now, at least.” 

Clapping excitedly, Kirby pushed her purse further beneath her seat and stood up, grabbing both her own glass and Jeff’s to refill in celebration.

“This is going to be good,” she promised. 

Jeff took back his glass and chuckled disbelievingly, then reached out and clinked the rim of it to Kirby’s. 

* * *

“The filming break gave my client the perfect chance to work on exploring his upcoming side projects. Line break. The shoot is still ahead of schedule, even with a catch-up grace period, and -”

Kirby dipped into Fallon’s view and waved in greeting as she walked through the back door into the yard. Waving back and then gesturing to her phone, Fallon turned her back to the redhead again and continued her path of pacing on the cement patio.

“Yes, I’m still here. Are you listening? Read back what you have to me.”

Leaving her to her phone call, Kirby dipped back into the house and headed for the stairs, kicking her shoes off as she went. Replacing her pill bottle back into her the drawer on her side of their bed, Kirby collapsed onto it and closed her eyes, sighing heavily. The almost imperceptible whir of the air conditioning lulled her into a relaxed state, and she thought about how nice the heat on her skin had been when she’d briefly stepped outside to say hello to Fallon.

Throwing on a bathing suit and laying in the sun for a couple of hours before dinner sounded incredible. The idea of a cold glass of sangria and some nice music made her mouth water.

Sitting up and making her way into the closet, she dug around for a suit and did a double take at Fallon’s briefcase sitting in the corner. A script stuck out from the front pocket - which Kirby recognized by the title as Will’s current project - and she felt a nagging itch of guilt.

She had her  _ own  _ potential scripts to look over. She  _ should  _ be doing that, instead of relaxing after only a few short hours of meetings.

Shaking off the thought and convincing herself that she would focus better after she relaxed, and ate, she flung her shirt off and started wrestling with her bra straps. 

Fallon was still outside when she came back out, though her phone call had clearly ended. Still, she stood in the middle of the patio tapping away at her screen, frowning in concentration.

“You’re going to get some weird tan lines,” Kirby pointed out as she approached, smiling when Fallon finally looked up at her. She was still dressed for work, in a full suit and heels. 

“Who has time to tan?” Fallon asked, before realizing that that was exactly her girlfriend’s intention. Unoffended, Kirby rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“You do, actually. You should join me.”

Smiling tightly - almost apologetically - Fallon shook her head and took a few steps to close the distance between them.

“Can’t. I have a few more calls to make, plus I have an event tomorrow that I didn’t know about - I’m going to need a new outfit.” She kissed Kirby’s cheek as she passed, heading back towards the open sliding glass door. 

“Of course,” Kirby sighed, but smiled nonetheless. “You know where I’ll be.”

Squeezing her arm in parting, Fallon headed inside and shut the door without looking back.

She had seemed a little overworked - maybe waiting a little bit to tell her about Jeff would be a good thing. It felt a little hypocritical given the argument that they’d just had about Fallon keeping things from her - but this  _ was  _ different. She wasn’t going to  _ not _ tell her altogether; it would be impossible to keep it a secret even if she wanted to. 

Maybe over dinner. Or maybe tomorrow. 

She’d get to it. 

* * *

When Fallon finally left to go shopping, Kirby made herself comfortable on the couch with some leftovers and scrolled through the channels on the TV, trying to find something to entertain herself with. 

She thought about the scripts waiting for her upstairs, but shrugged it off. After she ate -  _ that _ was the deal she’d made with herself earlier.

Alice’s documentary appeared on the homepage of  _ Netflix,  _ and the effect was much more startling on a larger screen. Just as Kirby grabbed the remote again to scroll past, the auto-play preview began, and she was frozen at the sound of Alice’s voice.

_ “If you could tell your past self one thing, what would it be?”  _ The off-screen interviewer asked, in a clip from one of Alice’s talk show spots from a few years prior.

_ “I’d tell her to keep it up. It’s only getting better from here on out.”  _

Loud music overtook the interview as the clip of Alice laughing slowed and faded, before the face of someone that Kirby didn’t recognize filled the screen.

“Alice was always very -”

Before she could find out  _ what  _ exactly this person thought that Alice  _ was very,  _ the front door rattled and opened again, followed by the sound of Fallon’s heels on the foyer.

Scrambling to scroll past and click on anything else, Kirby chose something at random and sat up straighter as Fallon made her way into the living room.

“I forgot my phone. What’re you watching?”

“Nothing!” Kirby snapped, a little too quickly, before clearing her throat and setting down her bowl of food. Fallon quirked an eyebrow suspiciously and she fought the blush from her face. “I just… couldn’t pick anything.”

“So what’s this?” Fallon nodded at the screen.

Kirby shrugged.

“I didn’t even check. Figured I’d take my chances. Try something new.”

“Hm.” The suspicious look vanished from Fallon’s face and both women turned their attention to the television again as the lead actor on the screen began his dialogue - in German. Reaching over Kirby, close enough to make her catch and hold her breath, Fallon grabbed the remote, and navigated to the settings to turn on the subtitles. “Have fun.”

Kissing her temple, Fallon stood upright and headed into the kitchen to retrieve her phone, before letting herself out of the house once more without another word.

Practically holding her breath until she heard the front door close behind the other woman, Kirby exited back out to the Netflix homepage and chewed on her lip as she considered scrolling back over to the Alice documentary. 

She sat quietly for a few moments while she debated it, before turning the television off altogether and standing up with her bowl. She was suddenly not as hungry anymore. Maybe getting to those scripts first would help rebuild her appetite and give her a chance to clear her mind.


	6. Chapter 6

“Are you going to be home late?” Kirby’s voice floated into the bathroom from where she was stationed in the bedroom, and Fallon could hear the pout on her face without even seeing her.

“I don’t know, Kirby.” Leaning back as she finished adjusting one of her earrings, Fallon pursed her lips and scrutinized her reflection in the mirror for a moment. The red lipstick might have been a bit much, but whenever she was dragged into these sorts of elbow-rubbing events, Fallon found it useful to be  _ just _ unapproachable enough to decide who she spoke with - and when.

“Will you wake me up when you get home?”

Sighing to herself, Fallon closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before leaning out of the ensuite door, greeted by the sight of her girlfriend sprawled out across the bed with script pages fanned out in front of her. 

“If it’s not too late. Besides, you’re barely going to realize I’m gone. You have enough to do here.”

Stepping into the bedroom, gossamer gown billowing behind her, Fallon made her way towards the closet to start getting dressed. She heard the bed shift, and barely registered her surroundings as she reached for the closet light switch when Kirby’s hand wrapped around her wrist. Her other hand slid around her waist and gently pulled her in, pressing a tiny kiss to Fallon’s shoulder as she pulled her back flush with her chest.

“Kirby,” she sighed, continuing to reach for the light despite Kirby’s hold on her, flicking it on and illuminating both of their combined reflections in the full length mirror opposite to them. “I have to get ready.”

“You can be a little late,” Kirby hummed against her skin, lifting her head only a little to press her lips to the side of Fallon’s neck. 

Despite her earlier urgency, she closed her eyes, feeling Kirby’s lips upturn into a small smile. Having the other woman wrapped around her was both comforting and exciting - it had been…  _ awhile _ , if she was being honest, and she knew from experience that if she let her have her way, the actress would  _ fully  _ make it worth her while and make up for the wait, too. 

Taking her lack of protest as encouragement, Kirby’s fingers softly crept from her waist inward, slowly making a path along her stomach towards her navel and then pausing, dipping into the opening of the robe and worming their way underneath. 

“It’s good to be fashionably late to these things, anyway,” she mumbled, nudging Fallon’s ear with her nose before placing two tiny kisses there, one behind, one below. 

“You know I can’t be  _ that  _ late,” Fallon replied, her voice starting as a whisper before cracking despite her best attempts to stay composed.

The hand that had been wrapped around her wrist moved in, too, now, trailing down her arm from her wrist to her elbow, sliding closer with impossible softness. Just as the sensation became almost overwhelming, making her want to laugh and pull her arm down in protection from where she was now nearly gripping the wall by the switch, it stopped, and Kirby’s hand flattened, warmly soothing away the tickling itch as she grasped her bicep and gently eased her arm down to her side.

“I think…” Kirby mused, the hand on her stomach flattening too and reversing its path to grab her by the waist once more, “I’ll let you win this time.”

Kissing Fallon’s neck again, this time a little more messily, she spoke with her lips against her skin, drawing a shiver out of her.

“Like I said. You can wake me up when you get in.”

Slipping free from where she was tangled around the brunette, she winked at her reflection over her shoulder and turned to go, leaving Fallon standing tensely in the middle of the closet, heart racing and skin tingling.

_ What the fuck just happened? _

Shakily reaching for the dress she’d bought the day before and pulling it from its hanger, Fallon let her robe fall to a pool in her feet and stepped toward the mirror, holding the piece up to herself.

The sound of the top stair outside of the bedroom creaking made her freeze, as if worried that her girlfriend was going to come and ambush her again, but it was followed by the sound of Kirby humming happily to herself as she headed downstairs, instead. 

Not wasting any more time, she unzipped the dress and stepped into it, dropping to the bench beside the mirror to start pulling on her shoes, breathing a quiet sigh of relief and trying to focus on the night ahead instead of what had - or  _ almost  _ had - just happened. 

It had been a while since Fallon had actually talked with Liam, but she had been working every angle with Will over the last couple of weeks, so hearing from the journalist hadn’t been a total shock. 

Despite her pushback with his Alice Alby piece, the story had been a relatively big success, enough so to secure Liam’s spot at the  _ Popnosis  _ table full time.  _ Popnosis _ , while known for their annoying persistence and lack of personal boundaries, had always been a key player in most of Fallon’s public-image-rehab work, though with everything that had happened with Kirby - and how hard Fallon had gone to bat for her - after Alice’s death, Fallon was surprised that they wanted anything to do with her at all anymore.

She admired the professionalism, though. It wasn’t too foreign in her line of work to be constantly forced to work with people through tight, sarcastic smiles and underhanded compliments and suggestions. She didn’t have to  _ like  _ anyone from  _ Popnosis,  _ let alone trust them - she just needed to make it work for her client. 

The client in question, Will Chevale, was a breath of fresh air on his own. Passionate, but not pretentious, he took his work seriously but not himself, and his changes and suggestions to Fallon’s carefully laid out game plan were always coming from a place of convenience, not disobedience for disobedience sake.

Fallon had had plenty of  _ those  _ clients in her career - the up-and-coming television actor who was convinced that telling ‘honest’ stories about the fights on their filming set would endear the audience, or the nearly-retired actress-turned-reality-star who outright refused to let Fallon or anyone on her team go near her personal Facebook, which she kept public at all times, or…  _ Kirby.  _

  
Even once they’d settled into some sort of comfortable routine with one another, going back to work together had been rocky, to start. She could see the other woman hesitate each time that she pushed back against one of Fallon’s suggestions, as if mentally calculating what the consequence would be.  _ Would she get away with less, if they were dating? Or more? _

* * *

**ONE YEAR EARLIER**

“Kirby?” Fallon let herself into her girlfriend’s apartment, hobbling slightly under the weight of her purse, briefcase,  _ and  _ stack of files clutched in her arms. “Are you home yet?”

There was no answer, so Fallon kicked off her shoes and nudged them side, padding into the living room to dump her armload of work onto the coffee table. 

The sight of Kirby balled up in the corner of the couch, wrapped in a fleece blanket despite the heat that seemed to pour in through the glass of the windows despite the air conditioning, startled her into nearly dropping everything she was carrying. 

“I didn’t think you were here.” 

“Clearly.” Kirby didn’t look up from the phone that she was clutching from within the blanket-shield she had created. 

“Because… you didn’t say anything? When I called for you?” Fallon raised an eyebrow at the cool prickliness of the other woman’s attitude, though, she couldn’t pretend that it was entirely unexpected. “You’re not seriously mad at me, are you?”

Kirby shrugged, lifting only her eyes to watch Fallon as she set everything down and came closer to the couch.

“Wow.” Sinking down next to her, Fallon reached for the other woman to pull the blanket away but Kirby shied away, making a noise of irritation in the back of her throat. “Oh, that’s mature.”

“About as mature as thinking you could turn me into a sellout.”

Fallon whined, rolling her eyes. 

“You were being difficult. I  _ told  _ you that if you won’t pick up some kind of… hobby or whatever between shoots, you’re going to be stuck answering personal questions to keep your name out there.”

Kirby turned to her sharply, narrowing her eyes with a look of pure frustration and disgust that Fallon hadn’t seen in months. It made her recoil a little, watching as Kirby softened, too, and looked back down at her phone in her lap.

“I don’t feel like arguing about it.”

“I don’t either,” Fallon sighed, scooting a little closer across the couch cushions. “That’s why I’d rather we just  _ talk _ about it. Now.” 

Sighing - specifically in what Fallon recognized with a small thrill was her signature  _ defeated  _ tone of sigh - Kirby hiked the blanket up around herself a little more and shook her head.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Today sucked, that interview  _ sucked _ , you not considering how annoyed I would be  _ sucked _ , and I’m… and I’m  _ hungry.” _

Fallon truly tried her best not to laugh, pursing her lips and feeling her eyes almost bug out at the strain required for such a task, but a snicker escaped, followed by another, and before she knew it, Kirby was whining all over again, pushing one leg out from her blanket to kick Fallon in the knee.

“Come  _ on,”  _ Fallon crowed, “You can’t be throwing this whole fit just because you’re  _ hungry _ . And if you are, I’m allowed to laugh.”

“What did I  _ just _ say about not considering me being annoyed?” Kirby snapped, kicking her a second time in a weak attempt to put some distance between the two of them. “Who even  _ invited  _ you over here?”

“Oh, enough.” Fallon got her amusement under control, grabbing Kirby’s ankle gently and pulling her leg across her lap instead, leaning over to close the distance that the redhead had created. “I’m  _ sorry _ , alright?”

“For laughing at me or for making me tell  _ Cosmopolitan  _ my favourite kissing technique?”

“All of it,” Fallon assured her, waiting a moment to give her a chance to decide if she was still angry before kissing her gently. “Maybe we should order some take-out before you decide you’re not speaking to me because I changed the thermostat, though.”

“ _ God,  _ you’re annoying!” Kirby hissed, pushing the brunette off of her before tackling her to the other end of the couch.

* * *

“Call me if you need me,” Fallon insisted as she made her way downstairs, heading into the living room and tapping away on her phone.

She glanced up once she came into the doorway, pleasantly surprised by the sight of Kirby laying on the couch with one of the scripts from earlier held up over her head, reading intently. 

“I’m sure I’ll be fine, here, all by myself, working on my night off,” Kirby mock-pouted, glancing over at Fallon and then scrambling to sit upright. “...  _ Wow.” _

“What?” Glancing down at herself and frowning, Fallon crossed her arms over her chest and tightened her grip on the clutch in her hand.

“Nothing, I just - that dress. I like it.”

“I showed it to you when I got it,” Fallon pointed out, quirking an eyebrow.

“Not  _ on,”  _ Kirby argued, smiling and setting her script aside. “Are you sure you don’t need a plus-one tonight?”

“Will is my plus-one,” Fallon reminded her, smiling as she double-checked her clutch one last time for her phone. “I promise not to fall in love and get swept up in the  _ Hollywood magic  _ of an online magazine party, though.”

“Thank goodness,” Kirby sighed heavily, pretending to wipe her brow in an exaggerated mime. “I’ll see you later.”

“Be good,” Fallon replied, turning on her heel to make her way to the door.

* * *

“I hate these things,” Will admitted once their car pulled up to the hotel entrance. Tilting her head all the way back and staring out of the open sunroof -  _ Will’s idea -  _ Fallon squinted at the bright logo of  _ The Marriott  _ and took a deep breath. 

Will had really only been saying what she was already thinking. She loved her job - every part of it - but until Kirby was back to work and in full swing again, she was finding it harder and harder to relax and focus on the tasks at hand.

The idea of running into Ashley Cunningham, previously one of  _ Popnosis’  _ lead journalists who had gone on to become a junior editor, and now  _ editor-in-chief _ , was also a large factor in why this particular party wasn’t Fallon’s cup of tea.

Still, Liam had asked, and he’d been nothing but helpful for the last year or so. Her relationship with not only  _ Popnosis,  _ but with every other publication that she’d managed to keep in the good graces of, were always symbiotic. While often her job entailed tracking down the media to change the narrative, the carefully curated metaphorical Rolodex that she had crafted over the years had become her most important asset. Parading A-listers from interview to interview, setting up exclusives and having the power to decide exactly who was allowed to tell which stories had put more press in her pocket than on the other side of the battlefield. 

Will was thriving, and had spent his filming break working on a short film that he’d written with an old friend from an improv class he’d joined when he first started acting. Giving him the room to pitch and promote his project would benefit him, and having him appear even more well-rounded and passionate would benefit Fallon when it came time to start his Oscar campaign. For Liam, he’d have been the one who brought in Fallon and Will in the first place, which in turn would give him the chance to push for them to work more closely in the future - which would sell more magazines, benefiting even Ashley, once the chain of results worked its way up to the top. 

“We’ll do one lap.  _ One.  _ If you’re miserable by the time we make it around the room, and you have a few cocktails in you, we can go. Promise.” Fallon turned to Will as the car door was opened and he stepped out, holding a hand out to help her up as well.

“One drink,” he challenged, though his defiance was playful and ingenuine. 

“At least make this a fair fight for me.  _ Three,”  _ Fallon bargained, smiling when he handed her her clutch from the seat.

“You know I can’t say no to you,” Will sighed, falling into step with the publicist as they made their way towards the doors. 

“Well, that’s only because you know I’ll never lead you astray,” she quipped back, stepping in ahead of him and following the signs towards the elevators. 

As they reached the rooftop lounge, they were hit by what felt like a brick wall of sound. Music poured from the speakers near the pool, and the constant stream of chatter from the other attendees reminded Fallon of a swarm of locusts. 

“This is bigger than I was expecting,” she admitted, but Will was already scanning the crowd - whether he was looking for a familiar face or the bar, Fallon couldn’t be sure. Before she had a chance to think about it any further, she saw Liam weaving through the crowd towards them.

“Glad you could make it,” he practically panted, clearly having already done a few ‘room laps’ of his own. 

Barely-clad waiters carrying sickly sweet-looking bubbly drinks in champagne flutes orbited around them, and Liam quickly grabbed three, handing one to Will and offering Fallon one of the remaining two.

“Oh, please, I’m  _ working,”  _ she scoffed, waving it away.

Holding it out more insistently with a look that was a mixture of amusement and annoyance, Liam shook his head and then broke into a smile when she finally caved and took the flute from him.

“Have you met Verda Hill?” Liam’s attention was on Will, now, snapping him out of his distraction.

“The screenwriter? No,” Will sipped his own drink, and Fallon was sure she could see him  _ just  _ managing to mask his wince at how sugary it was. “Is she here? I was going to reach out to her this week, actually…”

“Oh, you have to, she’s amazing. Here, uh…” Grabbing the elbow of another  _ Popnosis  _ staff member that appeared to have materialized out of thin air, Liam gently nudged him toward Will. “Kev, do you think you could go introduce Mr. Chevale to Verda? She’s over by the pool.”

“Sure thing, boss.” 

As Will was whisked away, Fallon turned her attention back to Liam, eyes glinting mischievously. 

“You have, what,  _ interns _ now?” 

Shrugging, and looking almost bashful now that it was only the two of them, Liam glanced into his own flute, suddenly  _ very  _ interested in its contents, before answering.

“A few. They’re not  _ my  _ interns; they’re with the site. Ashley thought it would be a good experience for them.”

“For  _ who?” _ Fallon demanded, smirking. “The ambitious youth of Hollywood with all of their absolutely  _ inspired  _ dreams of being tabloid bottom-feeders?”

“You haven’t even finished your first drink, and the claws come out.” Liam quirked an eyebrow, but seemed unhurt by her choice of words. “That’s too bad. I had someone to introduce you to.”

“I think I know enough people,” Fallon shot back, trying to seem as uninterested as possible despite the excitement that his words had sparked to life. Being  _ introduced  _ was either a pain in the ass or a blessing from heaven. The former, when it was a nobody -  _ nobodies _ only knew other nobodies. The  _ somebodies  _ that they were occasionally lucky enough to know weren’t usually interested in meet-and-greets, anyway. If someone like Liam had ‘someone to introduce to her’, though, it could have meant any number of things - almost all of them good for her career.

“Fine,” Liam shrugged once more and tossed back the rest of his drink, setting the empty flute on a passing tray. “I’ll talk to you in a bit, then. Enjoy the party.”

“Wait,” Fallon sighed, reaching out and grabbing Liam by the crook of the elbow before he could pull away from her completely. “I’m going to be bored here, anyway. I’ll let you introduce me. What’s the story?”

Chuckling knowingly, Liam let it slide without prodding her too much, grabbing them each a fresh drink and waiting as she tossed back her first one before handing her the second.

“You know Genie McCarty?” 

“Obviously,” Fallon huffed. “She did all of those feminist indie movies, and then decided she was going to jump into… what was it, blockbuster horror and ended up with a $150 million budget?”

“First of all, you  _ know  _ it was blockbuster horror, secondly, it was  _ $170 million _ , and she went with a complete unknown for the lead.”

“I remember,” Fallon sighed, gritting her teeth a little, “Because no one that was put up for it on our end ended up getting it.”

Chuckling, Liam rocked on the balls of his feet for a moment and then tightened his smile a little. 

“So, I happen to have it on good authority that that complete unknown is here...” Liam started, but Fallon cut him off.

“Scarlett Barnes is  _ here _ ?  _ Now?”  _ Suddenly alert, Fallon glanced around the room and narrowed her eyes, trying to make out the face that she seemed to be seeing all over her online homepages and both home  _ and  _ office TV screens.

“She is. But I’d take an apology, first,” Liam suggested.

“Apology for  _ what _ ?” Fallon turned her attention to the man in front of her again, raising an eyebrow. “Showing up to your party with a future Oscar winner?”

“For your bottom-feeder comment.”

Sighing heavily, Fallon clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“ _ Fine.  _ I’m  _ sorry  _ for calling you a bottom-feeder tabloid writer. You aren’t - you just employ them. Now would you  _ please  _ -”

Before she could finish her request, Liam glanced over her shoulder and smiled at someone behind her, causing her to whirl around and be greeted by the sight of a woman - likely no older than twenty-one - who looked like tasteful  _ Facetune _ personified. 

Smiling brightly at Fallon as if she’d just served her a coffee at Starbucks or held a door open for her, she tilted her head to the side and let her blonde hair -  _ real  _ blonde, Fallon noted - come cascading down over her bare shoulder.

“Scarlett, this is Fallon Carrington.” 

Liam’s voice behind her snapped her out of it. It wasn’t that she was attracted to her - she wasn’t exactly Fallon’s type - but Fallon hadn’t met anyone so authentic, at least not in this sort of setting, in a long time. As she adjusted the thin straps of her dress, Fallon noted tan lines -  _ actual  _ tan lines - and her nails were short, painted clear. She was  _ obviously  _ beautiful, but Fallon hadn’t seen a real ‘hot girl next door’ look since the trope seemed to have fallen out of favour years prior. 

“It’s so nice to meet you!” Scarlett insisted, even though Fallon was  _ sure  _ that she had no idea who she was. The actress stuck a hand out to shake, grinning and revealing easily the  _ whitest  _ set of teeth that Fallon had ever seen in her life.

“Fallon works in publicity,” Liam assisted, seeming to realize that Fallon still hadn’t figured out exactly how to speak.

“You don’t have anyone doing your image for you, right now, do you?” She finally asked.

The woman she was looking at was exactly the kind of person that she could easily wring two Academy Awards out of before things started to go south, if not more. 

Scarlett shook her head, frowning suddenly.

“N-no, I don’t. Should I?”

Fallon exchanged a quick knowing glance with Liam, then gently hooked her arm into the crook of Scarlett’s elbow and turned them both back towards the bar area.

“Let’s talk about it over a drink.”

* * *

“Sorry, this stuff is all really new to me,” Scarlett apologized for what Fallon was sure was the fortieth time in the last ten minutes. Ignoring her annoyance and waving one hand in a way that she  _ hoped  _ would seem good-natured, yet dismissive, the publicist shrugged and stirred the southside in front of herself. 

The bar had been a little crowded, and Scarlett was the center of attention. After the third or fourth interruption by other party guests, Fallon had all but dragged the actress off to a quieter seating area near the pool, roped off from any more distractions by a small, gold-plated VIP sign. 

“Where are you from?” Fallon asked, breezing past the apology. She could detect a hint of an accent under the other woman’s words, though it wasn’t dampened by rigorous speech and tone classes at some snotty acting school. This was softer, and worn down, much more obviously from having been away from home for too long.

“Atlanta,” Scarlett admitted, raising a hand to her throat as if planning to somehow muffle it. “Is it obvious? I guess a little more, when I drink. I was really young when we moved.”

“No, no.” Fallon waved a hand. “I - that’s just funny. I am, too.”

“Oh!” Scarlett’s entire being seemed to light up, her posture stiffening in surprise. “How cool! Whereabouts?”

Skipping past the question altogether, Fallon cleared her throat. Explaining the upbringing she’d had wasn’t exactly  _ relatable  _ information, and she and Scarlett seemed to have a good rapport going so far.

“Did you move here with your family?”

“My aunt,” Scarlett explained, stirring her own drink - vodka cranberry. Fallon had almost thought that it was a joke when she’d ordered it. “She fell in love with some writer and chased him allllll the way to Hollywood. It was almost a romantic story, except he was married.” 

Fallon wondered what had happened with her parents, but didn’t ask. 

“Well, clearly it worked out for the best,” Fallon gestured to Scarlett and then to the party surrounding them. 

“Yeah!” Scarlett beamed before taking a sip from her drink, chewing on the end of her straw for a moment before lowering it. “So, you’re like… in charge of making sure people don’t mess up?”

Fallon hummed at the oversimplification, then thought about it.

“Well I don’t let my clients write any  _ Notes App _ apologies, if that’s what you mean.”

“You’re like an accountability fairy.” Scarlett’s words pulled Fallon’s gaze back up to her face from the drink in front of her, and she chuckled in response. It sounded almost flirty, but Scarlett was hard to get a read on. Chalking it up to her bubbly personality, Fallon shrugged.

“I guess. Whatever makes it make sense to you.” 

Watching Fallon for a moment, obviously deep in thought, Scarlett sipped blindly from her drink and then uncrossed her legs, recrossing them the opposite way.

“D’you have a card, or something?”

“Yes!” Sitting up straighter, Fallon grabbed her clutch, popping it open and grabbing one of her gold foil-detailed cards, handing it across the small table between them. “That extension goes right to my personal phone when I’m out of the office - if you have any questions.” 

As Scarlett reached for the card, something over Fallon’s shoulder caught her eye, and she nearly upended the table as she leapt to her feet, waving frantically.

“Hey! Over here!”

Fallon glanced back over her shoulder, still holding the card out between two fingers, and squinted at the approaching figure of another woman.

“Ugh, you  _ have  _ to meet Genie. She’s incredible.” 

Fallon inhaled sharply, quickly returning her card to her bag, and then closed her eyes for a moment to brace herself for the upcoming introduction. Directors had a particularly interesting way of making her life difficult - especially the ones who took themselves more seriously, which in Fallon’s experience were often the indie darlings. 

Between encouraging their actors to drink the method-acting  _ Koolaid _ and not wanting Fallon’s marketing and publicity inclinations to ‘soil the artistic integrity of the work’, she found herself butting heads with more directors than she was able to have some sort of camaraderie with, and the wry look of recognition on Genie’s face as she drew closer to their table told her that this interaction would more likely fall into the category of the former option.

“Genie, this is -”

“Fallon Carrington,” Genie finished for her, stuffing her hands into her pockets as Fallon stood up as if to avoid having to shake her hand in greeting. “Yeah, I know. You had Vanity Fair do that piece on Piper Grey last year. What was it again…?” 

Tapping her chin as if in thought, Genie stared off into space for a moment, then snapped her fingers.

“Right. Something about how despite having been in  _ my  _ four-feature arthouse franchise, she could  _ finally  _ have the exposure that she deserved, with a director who really  _ saw  _ her.”

“I’m not a journalist,” Fallon pointed out, feeling her cheeks grow hot.

“No,” Genie sighed, giving her a once-over and then clicking her tongue disappointedly. “You just pull the strings. Right?”

Clearing her throat, Fallon cocked her head to the side and opened her mouth to retort, before Scarlett piped up behind her, instead.

“Fallon and I were talking about maybe finding room for me at their firm.”

It was as if she hadn’t noticed any of the tension between the two women, and continued smiling brightly without a care in the world. 

“We were talking about a lot of things,” Fallon corrected quickly.

“Sweetie, you don’t need a publicist,” Genie insisted, waving a hand. “If you’re interested, talk to production; having your own publicist is a scam, anyway, they’re leeches. No offence.” 

The director smiled briefly, insincerely at Fallon, and she tried to return the gesture despite feeling anger and adrenaline shaking her.

“None taken.” Fallon tried to force a small, polite laugh, as if the entire exchange were some good-natured ribbing and not what was becoming an increasingly annoying game of verbal chicken. 

Scarlett shrugged, holding her hand out to Fallon again.

“I’ll still take that card.” 

Feeling a little vindicated, Fallon retrieved it from her clutch bag once more and passed it over, watching Genie’s eyes follow its journey from one hand to another. 

From the corner of her eye she saw Will approaching them, and glanced up in time to see a rather obvious look of tired annoyance on his face. 

“I have to go grab another one of my clients. It was nice meeting you,” she insisted, taking Scarlett’s hand quickly, and almost turning her back to Genie as she said goodbye. 

“Wait!” Scarlett looked suddenly distressed, unprepared to have their conversation cut short. “You should come to set on Monday! If you aren’t busy, I mean. I… I have your number now! I can send you the information!”

The interest in visiting any set had worn off for Fallon years prior, but the look of sheer hopefulness on the actress’ face made her hesitate to refuse the offer. They’d hit it off so well, and she’d almost roped her into signing with Carrington before Genie had shown up.

“Sure. I’ll… let you know what my schedule looks like.”

Glancing back at the director with a look that she hoped properly conveyed the message of, ‘ _ we will continue this later’,  _ she weaved around the velvet rope out of the VIP area to meet with Will.

“Ready to leave?” She asked.

“Born ready,” he sighed, though he gave her a quick, reassuring half-smile. The pair of them headed back towards the doors, and Will glanced back over his shoulder to where Fallon had just been. “Were you talking to Scarlett Barnes?” 

“Mhm,” Fallon felt her entire body sag forward as she sighed. “Hey, I’m just going to say goodbye to Liam - I’ll meet you at the car?” 

Saluting in parting, Will split off from Fallon as they reentered the party and headed towards the elevators, leaving Fallon to weave through the crowd in hopes of finding the reporter that had invited them. 

Even as she tracked him down and then headed to meet Will, she tried to begin her ‘shutdown mode’, compartmentalizing the evening and all of its annoyances before heading home to Kirby. The problem with shutting off her ‘work brain’ with her personal life in the state that it was, was that it left her all the more bandwidth to panic over other things, like the upcoming wedding, and her family, and Kirby in general. 

Feeling exhausted already as she slumped into the car next to Will, Fallon pulled out her phone and scrolled through her missed text alerts.

_ [Steven]: Have you talked to Kirby? _

_ [Cristal]: Don’t forget to thank Ashley for the sponsorship spot on their homepage last month while you’re at the Popnosis event tonight! _

_ [Kirby]: did you change the netflix password? _ _   
_ _ [Kirby]: also i think i might have narrowed it down to four scripts, need ur expert opinion when u get home _

_ [Kirby]: hope ur having fun tho :) _

_ [Unknown]: Fallon - this is Scarlett _

“Straight home, for you?” Will asked, pulling Fallon’s attention from her screen back to him.

“Mm,” she hummed, closing her eyes for a moment before clicking her phone off and tossing it back into her clutch - the messages could wait. “You can go, first, I think we’re closer.”

“Or… let’s get a drink instead. Somewhere  _ not  _ insanely loud.”

Glancing at her open clutch once more and seeing the light of her phone illuminating it from the inside, Fallon considered the offer, then nodded.

“Yeah. I’m not in a hurry to get home, right now. A drink sounds good.”


	7. Chapter 7

For the first time in months, Kirby woke up feeling perfectly comfortable. There was no weight on her shoulders of unfinished business; no guilt about procrastinating or creeping concern that her ‘time off’ was going to turn into more of a habit than a vacation. There wasn’t even a hangover from an evening of boredom-drinking to handle, which had unfortunately been becoming more and more common for her as of late. She felt well-rested and ready for the day, turning onto her side and smiling tiredly at her girlfriend still asleep beside her - until she caught sight of the stack of scripts on the dresser behind her and remembered the current and only remaining source of conflict in her life.

Fallon stirred quietly beside her, and Kirby turned her attention back to her, instead. The worry slipped away and was replaced with a peaceful warmth. She noted that Fallon’s makeup, though now smudged and considerably less perfect looking than it had been when she’d left the evening before, was still in place. Next, she inventoried that the brunette was still wearing her outfit that she’d worn to the party, though the back was entirely unzipped and the look was complete with only one remaining stiletto heel. The strap of the shoe was almost torn - a sign that clearly she had made the attempt to get both halves of the pair off before giving up and climbing into bed. 

Kirby didn’t remember hearing her come in after she’d gone to bed alone, but she had been pretty in her own head, and even drunk Fallon was usually considerate enough to be quiet. 

Slipping quietly out of bed and heading to the ensuite bathroom, Kirby retrieved a glass of water and placed it on Fallon’s bedside table before climbing back in beside her. Shifting to lay on her side, she reached over and dropped her hand into the open back of Fallon’s dress, tracing her nails up from her lower back to the dip between her shoulder blades, then back down. 

Just as she completed her second lap, Fallon squirmed, eyes fluttering open before squeezing shut again to block out the sunlight streaming into their bedroom from the window behind Kirby.

“You haven’t done this in forever,” the brunette mumbled, her words muffled by her arms as she stretched both up and tucked her face into them.

“Well, I haven’t seen you this hungover in forever,” Kirby pointed out, completing another track up and down her back, punctuating it by outlining a tiny heart on her bare shoulder - a mirror of the one tattooed on her own. 

“Mm,” Fallon replied in agreement, shifting a little closer in a nonverbal request for Kirby to continue before falling silent once more. 

“What time did you get in?”

“Kirby,” Fallon whined quietly, lifting her head enough to look at her before dropping her cheek to her arm and pouting up at the redhead. “Can we please not talk until the room stops spinning and I’ve had coffee?”

Smirking, Kirby pulled her hand back and watched Fallon’s face fall.

“Jeez. Fine, I won’t disturb you. Enjoy your misery, I’m going to go put the coffee on.”

Sighing defeatedly, Fallon sat up as Kirby slid out of bed. She shimmied the rest of the way out of her dress, kicking it onto the floor and then burying herself back into the duvet and sheets. 

It wasn’t like Fallon to come home drunk after having been at a work-related event, and Kirby couldn’t deduce if it had happened this time because the party was  _ really good,  _ or  _ really bad.  _

As Kirby headed into the kitchen, she glanced around at her surroundings and sighed. Her and Fallon’s house had become her favourite place in the world over the past year. Even when Fallon wasn’t home with her, she never felt trapped or uncomfortable on the property. All of the rooms had the perfect combination of both women’s presence: the plants that Kirby was struggling to keep alive littered the one-of-a-kind stone shelving that Fallon had spent months picking out, broken up by a combination of framed publications that featured either Fallon or Kirby, awards, and photographs of the two of them together. 

The only mug that didn’t match the rest of the dishware in the kitchen was one that Kirby had picked up in a thrift store during the first week that she’d moved to the country. A blurry, almost crookedly-printed panoramic shot of the Hollywood sign covered the entire mug, and the chip on the inside of the handle was already there when she’d picked it up from the shelf. It had been a last-minute purchase once she’d realized that she hadn’t picked up anything to drink out of during her IKEA run in Burbank - it had only cost her seventy-five cents, and for about two months, it was the only cup in her apartment. 

She considered it lucky, though. Before picking it up, she’d dropped her phone and cracked the screen, locked herself out of the apartment complex and had to call the building manager, and accidentally wiped her resume from her computer and needed to rewrite it from scratch. Once she’d brought it home, though, and had that first cup of much-needed tea, she’d started to feel better. All things considered, it had only gotten better since then. 

Pouring Fallon’s coffee into the mug, Kirby took a moment to pray that its secret powers would help keep the publicist level-headed while they discussed the scripts that Kirby had set aside the night before.

Jeff had made quick work of finding and letting her know about other projects to add to the scripts addressed to her previously non-existent management team that had been landing on the Carrington PR and Talent reception desk for the last few months. he’d added two of his ideas to her ‘most-likely-yes’ pile before stumbling upon the perfect gem that she had to have overlooked previously. She hadn’t felt any writing resonate so deeply with her before - not with  _ Splintered Men _ , or  _ The Last Fire,  _ or any of the scripts now sitting in the ‘reject’ pile somewhere in Jeff’s office. It looked like intensive work, but the character was perfect, and the idea of getting to explore her in front of a camera was thrilling.

Fixing Fallon’s coffee and carrying it carefully back up the stairs to her, she felt her inner conflict ease once more at the sight of her, grumpily squinting at the screen of her tablet as she laid horizontally across the bed in her underwear.

“I thought you’d have at least washed your face,” Kirby greeted, handing Fallon the mug and settling in on the edge of the bed beside her. 

Reaching out with one hand and setting the tablet aside, Fallon sipped gratefully from the mug and then sighed contently.

“I think today might be a write-off,” she sighed. Despite Fallon’s current state, and knowing that she’d have to talk to her about Jeff, the scripts, and everything else, Kirby felt a little excited at the thought of having Fallon home to herself all day. 

“You didn’t get swept up in the Hollywood magic and fall in love with someone else last night, did you?” Kirby asked.

Fallon sipped her coffee again before holding it out for Kirby to set aside for her.

“No, I didn’t. I  _ hopefully _ met a new client and subtly undermined one of the biggest directors of the moment, and then  _ your  _ buddy Will fed me a bunch of shots.”

Kirby pretended to consider this for a moment. 

“Then I guess you deserve to have me nurse you back to health all day.” 

Forcing a small, tired smile, Fallon laid back again and covered her face with her hands. 

“I’ll be fine when I shower. Distract me. You said you narrowed the scripts down.”

“Hm, or you could tell me about the party first,” Kirby suggested. “That sounds fun, right?”

Fallon waved a hand. 

“I don’t - it wasn’t that interesting, I assure you.” 

Kirby slid down beside her, stretching out on her side and propping her cheek on her fist. 

“You’re sure?” She hadn’t meant to sound accusatory, but after having so recently caught Fallon in a different lie - which had led to an argument of its own - it felt dangerous to prod too much. Backtracking a little, she cleared her throat, volunteering some new information of her own. “I… finally ended the hunt for a new manager.”

“Oh yeah?” Fallon’s tone perked up a little. “Anyone I know?”

Kirby chewed her lip, enjoying the last moments of this specific sleepy brand of Fallon’s blissful ignorance.

“Kirby?” Pulling her hands down from her face, Fallon squinted up at her. “Who is it?  _ Ugh,  _ it’s not that prick Alex from Visight, is it? He’s like twelve years old.”

“ _ Noooo _ ,” Kirby started slowly, dropping Fallon’s gaze.

“...Kori?” Fallon asked weakly.

“Definitely not,” Kirby frowned. Kori had only ever been nice to her the one or two times that she’d met her - but that had been when Alice was still alive. The idea of recycling her old manager made her feel nauseous.

“Well, spit it out, already!” Fallon hissed. “You’re making my headache worse.”

It was meant as an insult, but Kirby reached out with her free hand and rubbed one of the brunette’s temples, frowning.

“Oh. D’you want me to get you an aspirin?”

“No!” Fallon pushed her hand away from her forehead, but held onto it reassuringly. “Just  _ tell _ me already. Please?”

“Jeff Colby.” Kirby sighed more than she spoke, wincing when she felt Fallon’s hand instinctively tighten around her own. 

The publicist seemed to consider this for a moment.

“Well,” she sighed, “It’s better than Kori. And I’m too exhausted to properly think about how awful this might turn out, so  _ fine.  _ I’m  _ glad  _ you finally got it out of the way. I wish you’d told me, though.”

Having just sliced her to-do list of uncomfortable conversations to have with Fallon in half, Kirby was overwhelmed with relief and leaned forward to messily kiss the other woman’s cheek.

“Ugh,  _ why _ ?” Fallon groaned quietly, reaching up and softly pushing Kirby’s face away.

“Because I love you,” Kirby sighed, fixing the brunette with an amused, endeared look before kissing her face again and again, trailing from her cheek to her ear to her neck despite Fallon’s increasingly loud protests. 

“Do - it -  _ less!”  _ Fallon hissed, trying to squirm free in spite of her hangover-dampened reflexes. “Ow,  _ fuck _ , this underwire is trying to cut me in half.”

“I still love you when you’re cranky,” Kirby insisted, hooking a finger into the center gore of her bra with one hand to straighten it and starting to squeeze at her hip with the other. 

“That’s a  _ you  _ probl -  _ no!”  _ Fallon’s tone immediately switched from lazy and sore to alert and sharp, one single laugh escaping before being followed up with the stern threat of “ _ Do not tickle me, I’ll throw up on you.” _

Heeding the warning, Kirby smoothed her hands over her waist and stopped, pulling back to smirk down at her.

Catching her breath from their scuffle, Fallon fixed Kirby with a defeated look and then nudged her off.

“I’m going to Postmates you some Gatorade, maybe. Avocado toast?” 

Fallon nodded, closing her eyes when Kirby leaned over to kiss her forehead.

“You shower. Then we can talk about the scripts.” 

“We should talk about the wedding, too.” 

Fallon’s words surprised Kirby - she wasn’t sure if it was the hangover or just a genuine desire to implement the honesty that they’d argued about a few days prior, but the offer to finally discuss Steven’s upcoming wedding made Kirby feel light and happy once more. 

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

Smiling and leaving Fallon to wrestle out of the uncomfortable lingerie set that she’d slept in, Kirby practically hummed to herself as she left their room with an extra bounce in her step.

* * *

Fallon seemed to be feeling much better after showering and changing into more comfortable clothes.  _ This  _ Fallon was a rarity that Kirby adored. For a woman who owned the entire Kim Kardashian  _ SKIMS _ line and had full access (which she ignored) to the bottom drawer of the dresser in the very back of their shared closet that housed all of Kirby’s old worn out clothing, Fallon never seemed to be dressed unprofessionally, unless she was about to get into bed.

Now, though, in soft flowy pajama pants and a cozy-looking henley, Fallon barely resembled her usual day-to-day self. She padded tiredly into the living room, pulling her still-damp hair around her shoulder and combing her fingers through the ends as she settled on the couch next to Kirby.

“‘S’at for me?” She nodded at one of the remaining food cartons on the table, and barely waited for Kirby to confirm before pulling it open and biting into the still-hot avocado toast inside. It was only her go-to breakfast when she was hungover, which wasn’t often to begin with.

“You wanted to talk about the wedding?” Kirby suggested gently, muting the news that she’d been watching on the TV before turning to Fallon and pulling her legs up onto the couch. 

“Mm,” Fallon made a reluctant noise of agreement in the back of her throat, finishing her bite and setting down the toast to reach for the bottle of Gatorade waiting for her on the coffee table.

“If it makes you feel any better, meeting your entire family at once is kind of scary to me, too,” Kirby tried, reaching over to put one hand on Fallon’s knee.

“You’ve met some of them,” Fallon pointed out, screwing the cap back onto her drink and turning to face Kirby properly. “Or, at least, sort of. If you count Cristal.”

“I do. But I don’t know if I count  _ at work _ . I’ve never met your dad.”

Fallon sighed.

“Wel,l he isn’t exactly the standing-on-the-porch-with-a-shotgun type.” 

“That’s good news,” Kirby chuckled, squeezing her leg gently. “What else?” 

“Cristal is  _ definitely  _ going to be all weepy, and annoying, and - wait, you don’t cry at weddings, do you?”

Kirby picked apart her own piece of toast, shrugging.

“Sometimes.”

“ _ Ugh _ .” 

Shaking her head in amusement, Kirby outstretched one leg and pushed her foot against Fallon’s, as if trying to physically gently encourage her to continue her original train of thought.

“D’you like him? Your brother’s fiancé, I mean.”

Fallon sat back a little, thinking it over.

“He’s… sort of who I guess I could picture Steven marrying. He’s been nice whenever I’ve met him.  _ I guess.” _

“Right,” Kirby said slowly, “but do you like him?” 

“I don’t really know him.”

“How long have they been together?” Kirby asked, eyes flicking up from the toast in her hands to her girlfriend’s face as she raised it to take a bite. 

“A few years, I guess.”

Almost choking, Kirby covered her mouth and coughed until her eyes watered, trying to speak through her gasps for air.

“They’ve been together for  _ that _ long and you don’t  _ know  _ him? I thought you and your brother were  _ close _ .”

“Okay,” Fallon snapped, tossing the remaining bite of her own piece of toast back into the container. “If you’re going to do that whole… judgment thing, we aren’t having this discussion.”

“No!” Kirby winced at her own choice of words, before squeezing Fallon’s leg once more. “I’m not… I’m not  _ judging  _ anything, I’m just trying to figure everything out. Okay? I’m sorry.”

She could already see that Fallon was beginning to place her walls back up, despite the fact that Kirby had barely been let in to begin with.

“This is all just new to me, okay?”

Either Kirby had finally proven after so long that Fallon could open up to her, or perhaps Fallon was just too hungover to put up a real resistance, or a combination of both, because the brunette placed both her box and bottle aside, and then pulled Kirby’s own food from her hands to set it on the table as well.

“What -”

She didn’t get a chance to finish her question before Fallon curled up into her, resting her head and shoulders in the actress’s lap and sighing so heavily that Kirby was sure she could feel Fallon deflate into her. 

“Steven is like some kind of… magnet for very damaged, manipulative people,” Fallon explained. All of the irritation and defensiveness had melted away from her tone, leaving only softness. Kirby had never heard her sound so small before. “I think that’s why he was always closer with our mom than I was. I hadn’t bothered to get to know Sam much before this, because I honestly didn’t think it was going to get this far.”

“Are they not a good fit?” Kirby asked, carding her fingers into Fallon’s damp hair and inhaling the wave of rose and jasmine that wafted into the air between them from the action. 

“He’s happy. Happier than I’ve ever seen him, at least. I just didn’t see any point in caring until there was something to care about.”

“And how do you feel?” She asked.

“Relieved.” 

Smiling softly, Kirby shifted Fallon in her lap to make herself more comfortable, ready to be in their current position for a while longer.

“It’s going to be really nice. And I’m looking forward to meeting them.”

Fallon turned her head, kissing the inside of the crook of Kirby’s elbow before falling silent once more.

“Are we going to talk about your mom, now?” Kirby asked, after giving her one quiet moment to relax.

The brunette’s eyebrows knitted together, but she kept her eyes closed.

“There’s not a lot to talk about. She’s awful, she’s obsessed with undermining me despite spending the rest of her time ignoring me, and having her hovering nearby just means that my dad will be drinking more and bossing everyone around - which isn’t the most out of character move, for him, but it’ll still put Steven on edge.”

“Maybe we can keep her busy, then,” Kirby suggested.

“No!” Fallon’s eyes snapped open and she sat up, whirling around and staring at Kirby like she’d just grown another head. “Absolutely not. You and I are staying away from my mother at all costs. We’ll say ‘hello’, we’ll put some healthy distance between us and her, and then we’ll bail right after the reception. Understood?”

Nodding slowly, eyes wide, Kirby put both hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay. I get it. Sorry.” 

Fallon watched her for a moment longer, then sighed and sagged into herself.

“Okay. We’ll need to go dress shopping, too. The two of us not being coordinated is just going to add fuel to whatever fire my mother tries to start.”

“Alright,” Kirby kept her tone soft, like she was trying to calm a wild animal. “That sounds good. Fun, even. C’mere.”

Holding her arms out and open, she watched as Fallon shifted closer once more and snuggled back up into her torso. 

“Thank you for telling me everything,” she mumbled into the brunette’s hair, pressing a kiss there before tightening her arms around her. “It means a lot. This is going to be good, I promise.”

Fallon only grunted once in response, not moving from her spot until another question seemed to come to her mind.

“Hey,” she lifted her head. “You were going to tell me about the scripts. What did you decide on?” 

Ah, _ yes _ , the  _ other _ source of inner turmoil in Kirby’s life.

“I haven’t made any final decisions,” she sighed. “But I’ve narrowed it down. D’you want to see them?”

Shifting a little in her girlfriend’s lap, Fallon seemed to consider whether or not she wanted to be displaced from her comfortable spot halfway in her girlfriend’s lap, and then shook her head.

“No, just tell me about them. Please.”

Lacing her fingers into Fallon’s hair again, Kirby took a deep breath before starting from the top. 

“So the first one looks like it’ll be fairly in-and-out. Not a lot of opportunity for too many night shoots, a lot of it is probably going to be done in a studio, and -”

“I wanna hear about the  _ scripts _ , Kirby, not the shooting schedule.” Fallon complained.

Kirby was quiet for a moment.

“There’s one being directed by Piper Solviel.” She watched - and felt - Fallon go tense with anticipation. With a few Academy Awards herself, Piper had a helpful habit of directing - and writing - movies that often swept awards season. 

“What’s it about?” 

“The villain origin stories from old German folklore, with modern themes of organized crime and politics.”

“I would see that,” Fallon mused.

“I know you would,” Kirby chuckled, shrugging. “It’s… it’s pretty amazing writing.”

“And what’s your part?”

“I don’t have a part. Yet.” Feeling the brunette physically wind up in irritation, ready to throw back some snarky, impatient comment, she dipped her fingers from her scalp to the back of her neck, massaging there instead and feeling her loosen up once more.

“The  _ rasselbock _ ,” Kirby ceded, with an exaggerated attempt at a German accent. She smiled when Fallon tilted her head back to look at her. “The jackalope.” 

“Are they going to fit you for prosthetic antlers and bunny teeth?” Fallon teased.

“Uh, no. They have sharp canine teeth, and you  _ did  _ hear the bit that I said about it being modernized, right?”

“Kirby, are you implying that jackalopes existed once?”

“Okay,” the redhead sighed, worming her hands under Fallon’s shoulders and gently moving to heave her off of her lap. “Off.”

“Noooo,” Fallon whined, though she accepted defeat and sat upright. 

“I’m not taking that one, anyway.”

“What?” The publicist’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in suspicion. “Why not? I thought these were your narrowed-down options - and this one sounds like there’s room to franchise.”

“Uh, because it’s a nine week shoot in Germany?”

Silence hung between the pair of them for a moment.

“I still think you should do it.”

“I don’t want to be away for that long. I had plenty of options that I liked that are  _ here _ .” Dropping Fallon’s gaze, Kirby shrugged to herself and picked at a non-existent spot on the couch next to her.

“But -” Fallon started to protest, squirming closer and taking both of Kirby’s hands in her own. “This is perfect. For you, for your career, just… consider it, at least?”

The look on her face was so genuinely hopeful that it made Kirby believe that it really was the right choice. Distance for just a couple of months and some change would be fine - in fact, it might even do them some good if Fallon’s family really was as insane as she said that they were. And, she’d never been to Germany. It would be nice to do a bit of travelling now that she had the means and excuse to do so.

“Okay,” she breathed. “I promise that I will… seriously consider it. I should talk to my  _ manager  _ anyway.”

Fallon shuddered theatrically, reaching for her abandoned Gatorade.

“You know you can call me if he tries to push you around, right?”

Kirby laughed.

“What, as my on-call bodyguard?”

“ _ Bodyguard _ , slash publicist, slash his superior, slash his cousin, slash  _ your girlfriend _ . Yes.”

Shaking her head, Kirby retrieved her own half-finished breakfast from the table. 

“Jeff wouldn’t do that to me, he’s my friend.”

“Your  _ friend _ who now gets ten percent,” Fallon pointed out. “Seriously, just tell me, okay?”

“I promise,” Kirby assured her.

“Good.” Standing up slowly - Kirby was sure she could hear the other woman’s dehydrated body creaking in protest - Fallon headed to the doorway and glanced back over her shoulder. “Let’s get in the hot tub. I need to sweat the rest of this out.”

“Gladly.” 

Hopping to her feet without needing to be told twice, Kirby followed her out with a giddy sense of relief. She and Fallon were fine. They were steady with a solid foundation. She had been worried over absolutely nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

True to her word, Fallon accepted Scarlett’s invitation to check out the set. She tended to avoid anything that could potentially be a trap for tourists while she was still wooing a new client, but Scarlett had volunteered the information that it was all completely private, which left Fallon feeling at least a little more confident about how the day would go. Bright and early Monday morning, she stopped for fresh coffee on the way to the studio lot and texted the actress to let her know that she was on her way, despite knowing that she would likely be too busy working to reply. 

An excitable, pimple-faced production assistant escorted her through the hangar, seemingly unbothered by the way that all of his ‘colleagues’ didn’t return his ‘hello’s, and ‘’sup’s as he passed them. The pair of them came to a halt outside of a heavy-looking unmarked door, standing in awkward silence as the light above them blinked red. Avoiding the boy’s eye as best she could, Fallon took in the rest of her surroundings. A distinct, sickly sweet combination of smells filled the air, cloying her senses and filling her with an odd sense of nostalgia.

_ Corn syrup. A fog machine. _

Snorting to herself as if remembering some particularly funny joke, Fallon shook her head. You could take the indie darling out of the low-budget set, but you couldn’t pry the low-budget tricks out of an indie darling’s cold, dead hands.

The light above them switched off, and Fallon could hear muffled shouting from inside. Sliding past her, the PA pushed open the door and stepped through it, holding it open for Fallon to follow him.

“She should be…” he glanced around, then pointed across the set to where Scarlett was perched on a cast director’s chair, having her hair touched up. “Watch out for the wires.”

Glancing down at her feet, Fallon noted what looked like hundreds of wires snaking across the cement floor in every direction. Just as she was about to work out a strategy to cross them, Scarlett seemed to notice her and made her way over to them, instead. Deftly navigating through the cords - in massive high heels, no less - Scarlett beamed a megawatt grin in greeting and startled Fallon by pulling her into a half-hug.

“You came!”

“I told you I was on my way!” Fallon could hear herself reflexively mirroring the other woman’s tone, her voice lilting up higher than usual. If Kirby had been there to hear it, she’d have never let her live it down. “This is for you, I never trust coffee that’s been sitting in a thermos all day.”

Passing one of the paper cups to Scarlett, Fallon took in her ensemble for the first time - or lack thereof. The parting in her thick terry cloth robe revealed only a simple pair of white underwear, which paired with the clear-platformed heels made Fallon backtrack.

“Nice outfit.”

Glancing down at herself and laughing, Scarlett uselessly readjusted her robe, shrugging as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“It’s an ironic take on the… male gaze and…”

Fallon leaned forward, as if hanging on her every word, and then jumped in surprise when a second voice cut her off.

“It’s an ironic take on how compulsory heterosexuality in women causes them to perform for the male gaze even when entirely alone, due to how the patriarchal system has boiled women’s understanding of personal value and self-image down to their appearance to men.” 

Closing her eyes, Fallon turned slowly and plastered a tight, fake smile on her face.

“What’re you doing on my set, Carrington?”

“Good to see you, Genie,” Fallon said, through gritted teeth. 

“I invited her,” Scarlett supplied, still smiling. Fallon wasn’t sure if she was completely oblivious to the tension, or willfully ignoring it. “I wanted her to see how amazing it is - and we need to talk, anyway.”

She winked at Fallon, before turning her attention back to the director.

“Fine,” Genie sighed. “As long as she isn’t in the way. Scarlett, I have some notes, if we could…” 

She gestured away from Fallon, and the actress shot her a quick apologetic look, squeezing her forearm. 

“I’ll be back - get something from craft services, okay? Make yourself comfortable.”

“Not  _ too _ comfortable,” Genie insisted, already walking away and pulling Scarlett by the arm. “We have a movie to make, here.”

The PA returned to Fallon’s side just as quickly as Scarlett and Genie left.

“I can show you were craft services is?”

Holding up her paper coffee cup in gesture, Fallon gave him a small, dismissive smile and then turned back around to fully take in the scenery of the set. Past the video village, a simple set was constructed to portray what was obviously a young woman’s bedroom, the once-pristine pink wallpaper dripping with stage blood from several still-leaking bladders and tubes that ran along the top of each fake wall. 

Horror movies were not Fallon’s cup of tea. 

She was surprisingly hard to shake, given her very real fears of weather, turbulence, and countless other irrationalities, but when it came down to serial killers and blood-spewing ghosts, she felt nothing but passive boredom. 

Kirby was a bigger fan. Not exactly a horror enthusiast so much as just a woman who was often too impatient to sit through a slow, dry epic or one of Fallon’s much-preferred oldie classics, Kirby leaned towards quicker, louder, faster.

When Fallon had first started out, she’d often heard from her friends both in acting and management that horror had the potential to be a career-killer, but the times had definitely visibly changed since then. For a moment, Fallon wondered if Kirby would ever try it. Fallon had worked hard on keeping her reputation respectable and serious - but picturing Kirby wandering around on screen in a getup like the one that Scarlett was currently wearing made the publicist’s mouth suddenly turn dry.

Shaking the thought from her mind and mentally returning to the present, Fallon scooted as close to Genie and Scarlett as she could without being too conspicuous. 

The conversation was hushed, but she could hear appreciative understanding in the director’s tone. It was definitely not a tone that Fallon had ever been on the receiving end of from Genie, and the way that Scarlett responded to her notes made Fallon realize that  _ maybe  _ the actress wasn’t the oblivious airhead that she had originally pegged her as. 

As she headed back onto the stage to to find her place, Fallon quickly shuffled back across the sea of cords to her original place, wanting to avoid Genie as much as possible for the rest of her visit. 

Scarlett in front of the camera was very different from the woman that Fallon had talked with over drinks at the  _ Popnosis  _ party that weekend. 

Hazarding a glance over at where Genie was stationed behind one of the monitors, Fallon noted the impressed look of concentration on her face - whatever notes she’d given were clearly being properly implemented. 

And Scarlett commanded the room. Fallon could feel her heart rate picking up as the tension in the scene before her mounted, even without the to-be-added effects of music and lighting, later on. Goosebumps prickled up on her arms as Scarlett examined the blood and the hydraulic door of the ‘closet’ opposite her creaked slowly open in the background. She hadn’t realized that she’d been holding her breath until she finally exhaled as Genie called for the cameras to cut, and Scarlett immediately morphed back into the smiling, helpful woman that she was off-screen.

“Was that any better, with the breathing?” She asked, turning to one of the nearest sound mixers instead of waiting for the director to answer. “Better? Yeah? Good.”

Fallon hadn’t been to any of Kirby’s sets before, even when invited. It felt a little too much like blurring the lines of their relationships, so she tended to avoid the entire idea. Kirby hadn’t seemed particularly upset about it, but now that Fallon was watching Scarlett work, she considered revisiting the discussion with Kirby. 

The thought made her remember the role that Kirby was considering - and the travel that it involved. Maybe, if she was lucky, it would pull the redhead away while Steven’s wedding took place, sparing everyone from the awkward family reunion. Or, maybe it would give Kirby back a little more of her independence, which seemed to have been slowly dwindling during her unemployment spell.

Turning away from the blood-soaked stage once more, Fallon saw Genie beginning to head in her direction and quickly made herself scarce. The more time she had with Scarlett, the better, but the less of Genie she saw was equally important. 

Luckily, it was Scarlett who found her first as she hovered awkwardly around the coffee station. 

“Sorry we didn’t have much chance to talk,” Scarlett greeted, tossing the now empty cup that Fallon had given her into the garbage and reaching for a fresh one from the canister on the table. “And sorry that you’re here on such a messy day. I might have scheduled better if I’d remembered. I’ve been such an airhead, lately!”

Fallon watched as she poured sugar into her coffee - real sugar, ignoring the low-fat sweetener options available - without a care for caloric intake or her metabolism in sight. 

“No,” Fallon assured her, “You’re not. This is all really cool.”

The lie came easily as she sipped the remainder of her own coffee.

“I’m glad you think so.” Scarlett sipped her own drink and winced. “You were right, this isn’t nearly as good as the one you brought me.” 

The realization dawned on Fallon that the actress in front of her was trying to impress  _ her  _ when she’d been spending her time trying to do the same. Giddily realizing that Scarlett was just as desperate to work with Fallon as she was to do the same made her feel like she was buzzing more than the caffeine did. 

Double-checking that Genie wasn’t lurking nearby, Fallon cleared her throat and played her next turn carefully.

“Don’t mention it. Julianne Moore actually turned me onto it, back in 2014 when we met.” Fallon pretended to sip again, despite having emptied her cup, to further hammer home the performance of being uninterested in what Scarlett’s reaction to her name drop had been. 

She let her do the math, hiding her smirk into her cup as Scarlett’s eyes widened and her jaw went slack.   
  


“Wait, were you on her campaign for the 2015 Oscars?”

“What? Oh, yeah.” Fallon waved a hand dismissively as if the whole thing had slipped her mind, too trivial to remember the important details. “She was really great.”

“Yeah,” Scarlett breathed. “Listen, um, I was thinking about what you said, about having a publicist?”

Fallon stayed quiet, letting her flounder for a moment.

“I just… I think it would be a good idea. You’re not… taking anyone new, are you?”

Waiting another beat, just to watch her squirm, Fallon pretended to think the question over, before tossing her cup into the trash.

“I think I still have room in my schedule. I’ll double-check with my assistant when I get back to the office.” Spotting Genie approaching them over Scarlett’s shoulder, Fallon tightened her purse on her arm and gently nudged Scarlett aside to pass her. “...Which I should be doing right now. We’ll talk.”

“Oh. Okay, bye!” Scarlett waved as Fallon snaked through a gathering of production assistants nearby and made her escape through the stage door, breathing a sigh of relief as it closed behind her. 

She’d done it. She almost wanted to email Liam and brag about having snagged Scarlett Barnes in under a week, just to teasingly one-up him, but Kirby was waiting for her at home. They could celebrate together, instead. 

* * *

The first thing that Fallon noticed when she stepped in the front door was the extra pair of shoes.  _ Mens  _ shoes, in fact - and not just any pair, either. The Italian leather looked soft even from where she was looking while standing at her full height, with what were obvious custom laces sewn in to match the outside color. They were  _ meant  _ to seem simple, and casual, despite being at  _ least  _ $2500. Remembering that she would only be looking at said shoes if the cleaners had come to finally wax the floors like Fallon had been asking for weeks, she quickly kicked off her own shoes and hurried further into the house.

“Kirby?” She called, hearing the concerned shake in her voice as she approached the living room.

“In the kitchen!”

Not particularly enjoying the sudden loss of extra inches that her shoes had given her, Fallon tried to straighten herself up to her full height and push her shoulders back. Making a sharp right towards the kitchen instead, she took a steadying breath. She would need to look more confident than she felt if she was going to be ambushed with -

“Steven! What’re you doing here?”

Trying to force herself to look as pleasantly surprised as possible, Fallon stepped further into the kitchen and let the scent of fresh coffee hit her.

Seated almost knee to knee at the kitchen island with Kirby, Steven clutched one of their coffee mugs in both hands and took a long sip before answering her.

“Kirby and I were just getting to know each other better. I didn’t realize you wouldn’t be home when I dropped by.”

“I told you that I would be working,” Fallon reminded him through gritted teeth.

“Oh, that’s right, you did.” Steven stared her down over the brim of his mug, the smallest hint of a smirk appearing on his face before it disappeared again.

“I tried to text you, but I think something’s up with my phone.” Kirby spoke next, drawing Fallon’s attention up to her, instead. She’d gone from cheerful-sounding to concerned in a heartbeat, the look on her face nervous and apologetic. 

“It’s fine,” Fallon assured her, sighing as she set her bag down and rounded the island to kiss her briefly. The redhead smiled hopefully, relaxing visibly before pushing out one of the other bar stools for Fallon to sit with them.

“What did I miss?” Putting on the best ‘positive attitude’ face on that she could muster, Fallon laced her fingers together and rested them against the counter.

“I was just trying to needle Steven for embarrassing stories about you, but he’s apparently too good of a person for that.”

“No, no,” Steven shook his head and chuckled, “I’m just aware that it’s mutually assured destruction.”

Smirking, Fallon tilted her head to the side.

“He’s just worried I’ll pull out the photos of his Elton John phase.”

“Well, we couldn’t  _ both  _ have the promising amateur rap career, could we?” Steven shot back. Kirby let out a single loud laugh, silencing it immediately when Fallon elbowed her in the ribs.

“Hey!”

“Don’t laugh at that, you’ll only encourage him,” Fallon sighed.

“That’s the point?” Kirby replied, the silent ‘duh’ in her tone clear. “I told you,  _ babe _ , I want to know everything.”

As it to reassure her that the threat was playful, not serious, Kirby reached over, obscured by the island base, and rested one hand on Fallon’s thigh, rubbing her thumb over her knee.

“Don’t forget who has access to all of your old social media,” Fallon teased, causing Kirby to fake-shudder dramatically.

“Right, never mind.” 

“We  _ were  _ talking about coordinating colors so that the family photos looked right, speaking of embarrassing oneself on Instagram _ ,” _ Steven segued, setting his mug aside and fixing Fallon with a more serious look.

Sighing at already being pulled back into wedding-talk, Fallon turned her attention back to her brother and resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Fine. What were you guys thinking, spring? Fall? You know how nice that apple orchard looks in September.”

“Next month.”

Coughing on thin air, Fallon turned away and covered her mouth, feeling her eyes water. 

“Easy,” Kirby hummed, reaching over and patting her less-than-gently between her shoulder blades.

Seemingly unaffected by Fallon’s outburst, Steven continued talking.

“We figure that with the press already getting excited, we should give them less time to prepare. Besides, Sam and I are happy, there’s really no point in waiting when this is what we’re both ready for.” 

“If you’re so happy, waiting shouldn’t be an issue,” Fallon nearly wheezed, finally getting her breathing back under control.

“Fallon,” Steven’s voice was stern, now, and as she levelled her gaze on his, she felt rooted to the spot. “This wedding is happening. Next month. I want to celebrate with you - both of you.” 

Reaching over and taking Kirby’s free hand to squeeze it briefly, Steven shot her a small smile before turning back to Fallon again and letting it drop.

“Are you going to be there?”

“Steven,” Fallon sighed. “You know I have to start campaign work soon and I don’t -”

“Of course we’ll be there.” Kirby sounded more upset than Steven did, and Fallon avoided her eye, feeling the outraged look that she was giving her without even turning and confirming it.

“Good.” Standing up and setting his own mug in the sink, followed by Kirby’s, Steven pushed his seat in and gave Fallon one last mildly disappointed look.

“I’ll call you. We’ll figure out colors.”

“Right,” Fallon muttered, dropping his gaze and picking at one of her fingernails worriedly. 

“I’ll walk you out,” Kirby offered, standing up as well and following Steven to the door. Glancing back over her shoulder, she shot Fallon a look that she hadn’t been on the receiving end of in over a year, causing her to wince and shrink into herself a little.

She hadn’t  _ meant  _ to hurt Steven’s feelings - and of course she wouldn’t miss what would hopefully be his only wedding. But a month was hardly enough time for all of the mental and emotional preparation that she’d been planning on doing, and the entire thing would be even more difficult if Kirby was annoyed with her. 

Kirby appeared in the kitchen doorway, startling her.

“You were really going to let him think that you might be too busy for his wedding?”

“Well… no, I just -”

“I’ve seen you do some selfish things since I’ve known you, Fallon, but this is getting ridiculous.” Kirby’s voice sounded soft, though, like she were more tired of Fallon’s antics than truly upset by them. “I know you’re stressed about your whole family being there, but this is a little much. I told you that I’d do what I could to make this comfortable for you, and I meant it. Can you please just trust me, for once?”

Frowning and getting up from her own seat, Fallon quickly closed the space between the pair of them and grabbed the other woman’s hands.

“Of  _ course  _ I trust you. I always do.”

She’d clearly said the right thing, because Kirby almost cut her off in her haste to kiss her, pulling her closer still.

Breaking apart after a moment, Kirby pressed her forehead to hers.

“You’re  _ infuriating _ , you know that?”

Pulling back to give the redhead a sharp glare, Fallon reached behind herself and began to try to pry her fingers away from her waist.

“Sorry, is that supposed to be flattering? Because I don’t -”

“Shut up,” Kirby huffed, silencing her protest by kissing her again. Forgetting her annoyance altogether, Fallon nudged her out of the doorway and steered them towards the foyer and stairs.

“ _ You  _ shut up,” Fallon hissed between kisses, if only to be deliberately oppositional. Her response only made the other woman laugh, though, pressing her back against the banister of the stairs and gently grabbing a handful of hair at the back of her head.

“Say that again, I wasn’t listening.”

“Sure,” Fallon breathed, “I told you to shut -  _ ooh.” _

Having tightened her grip and forced Fallon’s head to tilt back, Kirby dropped her lips to her neck and grinned against her skin at the reaction that she’d pulled out of her. Barely having time to be embarrassed, Fallon grabbed for the waistband of Kirby’s sweats, working both hands under the hem.

“Was I wearing a scarf when I - oh my god, lesson learned, I’m  _ so  _ sorry.”

Flying off of her, Kirby reeled back to reveal Steven standing in front of the open front door, covering his eyes with both hands.

“Why would you have a scarf? It’s like ten thousand degrees,” Fallon snapped, wiping feverishly at the lipgloss smeared on the side of her neck.

“I’m sorry - I - okay. I’m leaving.”

Almost tripping as he backed out of the front door, Steven waved blindly as he turned. Following after him and swinging the door shut before pointedly twisting the lock shut as well, Kirby turned her attention back to Fallon.

“Anyway, where were we?”

Fallon crossed her arms over her chest and tried to look as sympathetic as possible, watching Kirby defeatedly sag into herself.

“This isn’t happening now, is it?”

Shaking her head, Fallon stepped a little closer, smiling softly in relief when the redhead chuckled and kissed her temple reassuringly.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Kirby promised, before sliding past Fallon and heading for the stairs. “But, I  _ am  _ going to go take a cold shower. We can talk about dresses, after?”

Twirling one finger in a sarcastic ‘whoopee’ sort of gesture, Fallon smiled in spite of herself when Kirby laughed, heading up the stairs. 

  
Facing the front door one more time once she was alone, Fallon eyed it suspiciously as if it were going to burst open again even though it was now locked, then turned to head to the kitchen. She felt considerably more  _ alert _ , though  _ jumpy  _ was probably a better word. A cold shower was probably a good idea - but for the time being, Fallon would settle for a cold glass of water, instead.


	9. Chapter 9

_ Valentino  _ on Rodeo was mercifully quiet on Tuesday morning when Kirby and Fallon arrived. The stunning two-story shop welcomed them with bright white lighting bouncing off of every wall, and when mixed with the intense morning sunshine pouring through the front windows, the effect was almost blinding. 

“Ladies!” A man that Kirby could only assume had to be the shop floor manager floated towards them so smoothly that the only indication that his feet were touching the ground was the sharp ‘click-click’ of his shiny leather shoes on the marble tile. “What can we help you with?”

“We’re going to a wedding.”

Fallon answered before Kirby could, and she could hear the distinct tone of ‘I know more than you, leave me to this’ in her voice.

“Dresses? Shoes?” The man turned as another salesperson approached, carrying a tray of champagne flutes. “Mimosas?”

“All of it,” Kirby replied, reaching out and taking two flutes, serving one to Fallon before the woman with the tray had the chance. “You can keep these coming.”

* * *

Having been separately whisked away from each other, Kirby and Fallon spent the next twenty minutes speaking to each other through a change-room wall.

“I don’t think the four-inch heels are the best idea,” Kirby mused, standing back from her own mirror and tilting her head to the side as she examined her reflection. “I’m tall enough as is.”

“I like you in heels,” Fallon replied, followed by the sound of her door opening as she made her way into the main area of the fitting room.

“Just heels?”

“Well,” Fallon hummed. “Maybe not at my brother’s wedding.”

Laughing quietly, Kirby pushed her own door open and stepped out, raising an eyebrow at Fallon’s outfit.

“You can’t wear that to the wedding.”

“What?” Fallon frowned in confusion through the mirror. “Why not?”

“ _ Black _ at a wedding? Sort of a bad omen, especially from the family.”

“You just made that up,” Fallon insisted. “A bad omen is you, my Australian-Angeleno, somehow not getting enough sun in your life to not look washed out in  _ champagne _ .” 

Kirby glanced down at her own dress, but Fallon continued.

“What about that red one I saw them put on your rack?” Sliding past Kirby and digging through the pieces that had been set aside for the actress to try, Fallon dug out the simple, red silk and lace dress that had been pushed to the back behind the flashier alternatives. “You look good in red - you don’t wear it enough.”

“I thought I looked good in green.” Setting her mimosa down, Kirby gently took the dress and turned it over in her hands, feeling the cool material between her fingers.

“Try it on,” Fallon insisted. 

Knowing that complying would speed the process along, Kirby shimmied out of the champagne number that Fallon had rejected, and reached for the red dress instead. The brunette’s eyes trailed over her slowly, so she softened her movements, stretching her arms up more than necessary and twisting her hips back and forth as the dress fell into place on her body. They’d been a little out of sync, lately, which was perfectly fine. With Kirby at home most days, it didn’t seem too urgent to rush at each other and rip off layers to get down to it as soon as possible like it had been when they were both on such packed schedules with no time for one another.

And it had only been twenty-four days.

...Not that Kirby was keeping track.

“That looks good.” Fallon’s voice cracked, and Kirby had to bite back her smirk as she caught her eye.

“Think so?” She asked. “Might be a little low-cut.”

She pulled at the low neckline curiously, as if testing its elasticity, catching Fallon averting her gaze in the corner of her eye. 

“It’s fine.”

“Fallon,” Kirby chuckled. “You can look at me. There’s no one else here.”

Wrangling the tag of the dress into view, Kirby felt the mimosas rising back up her throat.

“This dress is eighty-five hundred dollars.”

Starting to unzip it again, Kirby wiggled back away from Fallon when she reached out to stop her.

“Don’t - please, it’s the best one so far,” Fallon insisted.

“Fallon, four-bedroom in Calabasas was seventy-five hundred a month. I’m not buying this dress.”

Waving a hand dismissively, Fallon helped her unzip it, standing back and holding her arms out for it. 

“Just consider it?”

“Sure,” Kirby sighed, if only to have her drop it.

Setting it aside on the nearest cushioned bench, Fallon turned to Kirby again and reached out for her, fixing her bra strap that had become twisted while she undressed.

“Just a few more,” she promised. “Then we can get lunch.”

“Don’t Cristal and your dad live in Beverly Hills? Maybe they want to join us,” Kirby suggested.

Rolling her eyes, but catching herself as she did, Fallon let Kirby’s bra strap snap back into place almost painfully before she turned her back to her and began to wrestle herself out of her own dress.

“No, no thank you.”

“Okay,” Kirby approached her carefully, wanting to smooth things over before her friendly suggestion turned into a full-on cause for a silent treatment. “Just us, then. It’ll be nice - we haven’t gone out in a while.”

Sliding the black material down Fallon’s arms for her before the other woman could rip the sleeves in her haste to get undressed, Kirby pressed a tiny, apologetic kiss to her shoulder.

Visibly relaxing, Fallon closed her eyes for a moment and exhaled heavily before reaching up to cup the side of Kirby’s face.

“Yeah. It’ll be nice.”

“You should see if they have something like this in green,” Kirby hummed, softly kicking the dress at Fallon’s feet.

“We can’t wear red and green.” Fallon’s eyes were wide open, again, her face animated. “That’s tacky.”

“Oh,” Kirby chuckled knowingly, slipping her arms around the brunette’s waist and hooking her chin over her shoulder to squint playfully at her reflection. “So when you asked me to ‘please consider’ the red one, you meant you were making an executive decision about me wearing the red one.”

Caught, Fallon pursed her lips, clearly trying to come up with an excuse on the spot.

“Well, I -”

Not giving her a chance to answer, Kirby turned to kiss her neck, eyes darting back to the mirror to gauge her reaction. 

“I just don’t know if I’m  _ sold  _ on the red one, y’know?” She mused aloud, tightening her arms around Fallon’s waist slightly in suggestion when the other woman moved as if turning to face her. ‘Public sex’ was nowhere near the top of Kirby’s to-do list, but they’d had too many swing-and-miss moments in over the last couple of weeks for her to be turning down any opportunity that presented itself.

And surprisingly, Fallon seemed into it - which would be a discussion to revisit later on, when the brunette wasn’t dragging her hand down to press against her, leaning back against Kirby on shaking legs.

“What  _ is _ it about the red one specifically?” She asked, her lips brushing over the shell of the other woman’s ear.

Taking a shaky breath, and dropping her own hand between her legs to pull Kirby’s against her more, Fallon swallowed hard.

“‘S pretty.”

“Hm,” Kirby toyed with the material of her underwear before pressing them back into place, huffing out a tiny hint of a laugh at the whine of protest Fallon let out. “I suppose that’s as good a reason as any.”

Footsteps outside of the door to the change area lobby stopped both women mid-movement, but when the door wasn’t knocked on after another beat, they continued. 

As nice as the view of Fallon coming undone in the mirror had been, Kirby turned her around to kiss her properly, closing her eyes and letting herself melt into it. Kissing Fallon always felt like home - even the first time she’d ever kissed her, years prior during her first Oscar nomination announcement, it had felt like the hundredth time. Everything around them melted away, and she was almost sure she could hear the other woman’s heartbeat as her mind slowly blanked itself out. 

Fallon’s hands sliding around her waist and grabbing her ass shocked her back to reality, though, causing her to break away to tilt her head back and laugh even as the brunette pulled Kirby flush against herself. Fallon shushed her playfully, and caught her lips in another kiss to muffle her.

“Have to be quiet,” Fallon reminded her lowly.

“Do we?” Kirby asked, reaching over to the wall to fiddle with the clearly-marked ‘Employees Only’ control panel, suddenly flooding the room with music.

“Good point,” Fallon grinned, wasting no time in sliding one hand down the front of the actress’ underwear.

_ “We might be young, we might be reckless, so fuckin’ what, that’s how we are ~” _

Gasping quietly and dipping her head to bury her face in Fallon’s hair, Kirby squeezed her eyes shut and grinned. The music was almost too loud - setting her hair on end and making her feel jumpy, but Fallon’s hands on her were reassuring. It would be something to cross off the bucket list.

_ “Our ears are numb, to what you’re saying, we fall in love, we fall apart ~” _

Realizing exactly what she was listening to, Kirby’s eyes snapped back open and she dug her fingers into the other woman’s waist without realizing.

“Ah-  _ Kirby.” _

It was Alice - or at least it sounded like her. Kirby had never heard those lyrics before, but it was  _ definitely _ her voice pouring from the speakers surrounding them. Detangling herself from Fallon and standing back, she tried to simultaneously process what she was hearing and steady her breathing that had already started to become more and more shallow.

Glancing at the panel that Kirby had been messing with earlier, Fallon frowned and turned to face her once more, grabbing for her hands.

“Hey - it’s not… relax.”

Her voice had an edge to it, though; a sort of impatient tenseness that was usually reserved for dealing with work-related problems. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, Kirby shook her head and watched as Fallon turned the music back down a little.

“It’s fine - you can leave it. We can - it’s okay.” Kirby half-started several explanations before reaching for Fallon again and pulling her closer. “It’s really fine. I want to.”

Fallon’s face changed, then. Something like uncomfortable realization washed over her, and Kirby realized with a twinge of horror that insisting on having sex to a soundtrack of Alice Alby was exactly the wrong suggestion to make.

“No,” Fallon gently pushed her hands away. “I, um - I’m sort of out of it, now. Sorry.”

“Right. Uh - I understand. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry!” Fallon insisted, already reaching for the dress she had worn in and climbing back into it. “I’m going to go get them to set these aside. You can get dressed.”

Scooping up both of the dresses and leaving the changing lobby altogether, Fallon didn’t even look back as the heavy white door swung shut behind her, leaving Kirby alone in merciful silence.

Stupid.  _ Stupid. _

Dressing, and then grabbing her purse roughly from the floor, Kirby dug around for her pill bottle and pulled it out. She stared angrily at the worn, familiar prescription label for a moment. Take one as needed.

Shaking two from the bottle into her hand, Kirby glanced up and caught sight of herself in the reflection of the mirror that she’d been pressing her girlfriend up against moments earlier.  _ Stupid piece of shit. _

The music continued to play, but it was too quiet to hear anything but the underlying beat. Kirby sat quietly until it faded into the next song, and then swallowed both of the pills in her hand, dry. 

Just as she’d stashed the bottle back into her purse, the door swung open again and Fallon poked her head inside.

“I figured we could walk to lunch.”

All signs of earlier hurt and frustration were gone from her features, but Kirby recognized it as an act of denial, not processing.

“Yeah, I’d like that. I’ll be right out, I just need to fix my hair.”

Leaving her to it, Fallon shut the door again, the sound of her heels on the tiles echoing and fading as she headed back down the hall.

* * *

The walk, as it turned out, had been a mistake. Between photographers and even two over-eager fans, Kirby felt like her energy had fully drained by the time they reached the restaurant - and from the look of annoyance that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on Fallon’s face, it appeared that the other woman was running out of patience, too.

It was incredibly nice outside, but Kirby waved off the host’s suggestion of an outdoor patio table placement. Insisting on being moved as far to the back as possible, Kirby gave Fallon an apologetic look as they were seated and reached for her hand.

“Sorry about that.”

“Comes with the territory,” Fallon sniffed, shaking her hand free and using it to flip her menu open. She didn’t even look up as their waiter approached and took their drink orders. Kirby watched her for a moment longer as they were left alone, taking in her tense demeanour, but decided that all of the day’s events considered, it wasn’t the time to bring it up.

“You never told me about how it was, going to set yesterday.”

Glancing up for a moment, Fallon caught her eye and then looked away again. 

“It was fine.”

“Just fine?” Kirby tried, already feeling a little better from her pill back in the store. “C’mon, I want to hear about it.”

Her own demeanour beginning to relax seemed to have a similar effect on Fallon, who apologetically pressed her foot against the actress’ leg under the table before replying.

“It was messy. You know how gross those movies are to watch? It’s worse in person.”

Her scrunched-up look of disgust made Kirby laugh softly, rolling her eyes.

“I think it’d be fun.”

“Maybe that’s what you’ll want to do, next,” Fallon suggested lightly. “After your folklore thing, of course.”

“A., I didn’t agree to even go out for that shoot, yet, and even if I do, it’s not a guarantee that I’ll get it. B., I thought you said horror was the… what was it? Career-killer?”

Fallon waved a hand dismissively.

“The times are changing.”

“All this from one morning on set with this girl, huh?” Kirby eyed her playfully, and watched as blood rushed to her cheeks, visible even in the low lighting of their back-room booth.

“She’s nice,” Fallon broached the subject carefully, sitting back as their waiter returned to place their drinks on the table. “Professional. Smart. McCarty’s a pain in my ass, but that’s nothing new.”

“What was her name, again?” Kirby asked. “Scarlett?”

“Scarlett Barnes, yeah.” Fallon took a generous sip from her drink. “I got her hooked, though. I’m sending her contracts to go over this afternoon once she’s cut. Thank god, too; I don’t think I could sacrifice another pair of shoes to all that corn syrup and stage blood.”

“Poor you, having to court another hot young actress,” Kirby scoffed, grinning when Fallon glanced up and caught her eye.

“Well,” Fallon hummed, “I’m a little out of practice. As much as I hate to admit it, Blake and Cristal did sort of…  _ give  _ Will to me, and you… well, you came to  _ me _ , didn’t you?”

“Oh,” Kirby waved a hand. “Give yourself more credit than  _ that _ , babe. You did have to beg me to come back a couple of times.”

Fallon’s foot on her leg pulled back and kicked - gentle enough to be playful, but hard enough to be a warning.

“So, when can I meet her?”

Kirby’s question seemed to startle Fallon a little, as she looked up sharply, eyes wide.

“What?”

“Scarlett? When can I meet her?”

“Oh. I don’t know if we…”

“I mean, if she has you on her team, now, she’s going to be around the office, right? Maybe I’m trying to take an interest in your work.”

“Maybe you should take a little more interest in your  _ own  _ work and settle on a script.” Fallon’s tone was gentle, but the words still stung.

“Right.” Glancing down at her own drink, Kirby stirred it slowly with her straw and tried to fight the blush from her own face.

“That’s not what I… that isn’t what I meant.” Sighing, Fallon reached over and took her hand. “I just meant -”

“Are you ladies ready to order?” Their waiter seemed to appear next to the table out of thin air, startling both of them into snapping back into their own seats.

“Yeah, we’re ready.” Fallon spoke first, before Kirby could protest, pulling her feet away and letting go of her hand. 

Kirby watched her as she ordered, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. She had never felt as scolded as she had for the last couple of weeks since she and Fallon had first started to work together. Paired with the conflicting schedules, and now the reemergence of her anxiety regarding Alice, it felt like they were drifting back to a place of weakly-handled professionalism all over again. 

Alice had been an obvious force in pushing Kirby and Fallon apart when she was still alive, and Kirby couldn’t entirely blame her, at least not back then. Fallon threatened their good time at every turn, and it was no wonder the singer had resented her for it. Closing her eyes for a moment, Kirby pictured Alice in a pair of wings, sitting on a cloud and watching as, even in death, she was completely wreaking havoc on her relationship with Fallon.

The image made her smile, albeit a little sadly, to herself, reaching for her purse and digging around for her pill bottle. She wasn’t about to cry at lunch, not with her already tense girlfriend sitting across from her. Tucking the bottle up her sleeve as subtly as possible, Kirby pushed her seat back and stood up.

“I’ll be back in a second,” she assured Fallon as she looked up in confusion, pressing a quick kiss to her temple before weaving through the rest of the tables towards the bathroom.

The more distant that she and Fallon grew, the less it felt like lying to keep her continual medicating under wraps. There was no reason to worry her any more than she clearly already was. Things were rough enough.

Shaking a pill into her hand and then holding it between her teeth, Kirby glanced at herself in the mirror and filled her palms with water from the sink. 

In therapy, they’d talked about focusing on small things to slow anxiety down in its tracks. The problem was that, alone, with only her reflection for company, the small things were all that Kirby could focus on. That, and the way that they added up. 

The way Fallon’s professional life was easier without Kirby in it. The fact that she’d blown possibly her only shot at some long-overdue intimacy. How sweet Alice had sounded, and how even though it had caused a panic, it was nice it was to hear something new instead of the same old voicemails and lyrics. The look of annoyance on Fallon’s face when they were followed by photographers.

Tossing the water from her cupped hands back and swallowing the pill in one go, Kirby leaned forward to grip the edge of the sink and stared at the pill bottle on the counter until she could feel her heart rate relaxing again. She knew that she was overdoing it, at least for one day, but desperate times, and desperate measures, or however the phrase went. She was too warm and sleepy and content to bother with the details.

Washing her hands and smoothing out her shirt, Kirby checked her reflection one last time, as if scouring for some sort of hint about what she was doing in the bathroom that Fallon, suspicious and almost impossible to lie to, would pick up on immediately. Nothing jumped out at her, though, so she turned to wrench open the door and head back into the dim restaurant.


	10. Chapter 10

Rhythmic thudding of rain against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room lulled Robert ‘Lewd’ Ludesco’s body into what felt like an almost fugue state. Reminding himself to tighten his grip on the scotch glass in his hand before it dropped to the carpet beside him, he sat up a little straighter and reached for the television remote on the table in front of him. Turning up the volume to drown out the sound of the weather outside, his eyes flicked back and forth across the screen as spliced-together video clips of Alice took over from the shot of the Entertainment News anchor’s face. 

The posthumous tour documentary had been a smart choice. It left enough mystery and unfilled blanks to open up the option for a future MTV two-part feature - a second chance to remind the public what they’d had and lost - while still being  _ just  _ tastefully tear-jerking enough to pull in the tragedy-hungry audience. 

On the screen, grainy home-shot images of young Alice at her middle school talent show faded into blurry, badly-filtered clips from her personal Instagram account. 

Alice would have loved it.

Knowing that her untimely death had made her a hero in the eyes of fans and the general public alike would have tickled her to no end, if she were alive to see it. Looking at the window instead of out of it, watching thick droplets of rain hit the glass and slowly slide down out of sight, Lewd pictured what Alice would say to him if she were there.

_ Do we have anyone on merch for this? Would me, but like, with angel wings be too much, do you think? _

Smiling stiffly to himself, he focused his eyes out onto the view outside, instead. Trees shrouded his view of the houses below his - he’d chosen a property high up on the hill for that reason specifically. When he was home, he could imagine he was alone - not just in his neighbourhood, but in the city. Some of his best music had come from bouts of loneliness. It had been one of the reasons that he and Alice had worked so well together. Underneath the bright smile and the too-red eyes, she was very,  _ very  _ alone. 

Lewd had never really liked any of her ‘friends’. Even the small group that she always referred to as her ‘day ones’ grated on him. Alice was a genius on her own, and didn’t need a circle of yes men glomming onto her fame, money, and status. None of them understood her, either. It was clear to him, on the rare occasion that he attended one of her spontaneous ‘it’s too quiet, fill the house up with noise’ parties that it was about quantity over quality. Each person in the room only understood about 1% of her - she needed all one hundred to feel full.

A short snippet from one of the songs that was about to be released from Alice’s repertoire played through the surround sound speakers of the room, so he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, letting her voice sink into him.

_ “You’re like a wave, washing over me, pulling me underneath, sinking slowly ~” _

The majority of music that Alice had recorded most recently was vexing. She had entire teams writing for her during the height of her career, not that she’d ever complained, but when she’d first texted him with her new concepts, something in the air had changed.

Screenshots of mismatched lyrics from her notes app, very drunken voice memo clips of melodies, and sometimes simply blurry photos of the view from wherever in the city she was at any given time - Lewd knew that he was a miracle worker when it came to music, but even he felt that his work was going to be cut out for him.

But they’d worked. In secret, but out in the open - Alice recorded features for other artists, then stayed late to work on her project without ever giving the public any sort of hint. 

He learned quickly to stop asking what inspired her and what kind of story she was trying to tell. They would plan to work on certain tracks before leaving a session, but she’d arrive the next day after a night out, wild-eyed and insistent that they try something else. They worked well together, though, and he quickly learned exactly what a blurry photo of the view from Griffith Observatory sounded like to her - a quiet mix of both heartbroken and hopeful harmonies. A screenshot of a text that simply said,  _ ‘Missing you, wish you were here’  _ wasn’t sad, like it seemed at first glance, it was confident - bass-heavy and sharp, with sarcastic, almost taunting vocals. 

As they worked through more and more songs, Lewd began to sort the story into two separate, distinct voices, though it was difficult at the time to figure out who exactly she was speaking to. As they dove further and further into their work, staying out later and starting earlier, Alice went into overdrive. Her lack of excessive public partying was a turn-off for her ‘friends’. Switching from a penthouse full of bodies and booze to white lines in a studio booth at five in the morning, Alice was no longer any fun for them, which, while insulting, was a great boost for their productivity. 

None of the men that she’d let take up space in her bed were available for her anymore. Kirby was busy on the road to winning her first Oscar. Alice had no choice but to work; to sing; to occupy herself. In the back of his mind, Lewd knew that she was pushing herself, too hard in fact, and that a steady stream of whatever substance she managed to dig out of her bag at the moment was one of the only things keeping her going, other than raw passion.

And then, it all came together. She was vague when it came to questions about projecting a release plan - an album? An EP? Did she want to sort out singles? 

Every time he asked, though, she maintained the same position: “ _ When the time is right _ .” She insisted that the chapter of her life that had inspired what they’d done so far wasn’t over yet, and she just wanted to sit on the untitled handful of tracks for a little while longer to make sure that she was ready to end it.

Now, he’d never know if it was  _ really  _ done or not. The untitled love letter that she’d been working so diligently on had lay dormant for long enough - just enough to be a tasteful period for public grief - but they deserved to hear it.

The  _ TMZ  _ transition filled the speakers and nearly startled him into dropping his drink, sitting up quickly and glaring at the television that had so rudely interrupted his thoughts.

“Kirby Anders, out with her girlfriend on  _ Rodeo  _ today -”

“Man, she is  _ not  _ having it -”

Focusing on the shaky zoom of the camera, past Kirby to the woman behind her, who Lewd immediately recognized as Fallon Carrington.

Stood back, away from the fans and cameras, her head was tilted down at her phone in her hands, but the resting bitch face she was sporting was clear as day even in grainy low-quality. 

“Kirby! Any new projects that we should keep an eye out for?”

Ignoring the cameraman’s question in lieu of leaning over and posing for a selfie with one of the girls that surrounded her, Kirby waved dismissively and then turned to head back towards the other woman, taking her hand and walking away swiftly down the street.

They were quickly stopped by another couple of fans, and the cameraman wasted no time in catching up, getting uncomfortably close for a moment. Lewd watched Kirby’s face carefully, searching for a sign of distress. Her girlfriend-slash-publicist had clearly trained her well, though, and he felt himself growing more and more irritated as both the fans and paparazzi fawned over her. It wasn’t too long ago that she couldn’t go anywhere without being forced to remember what she’d done, and even though he knew it wouldn’t bring Alice back, it still made the producer feel a little vindicated. It was only a small slice of justice, but it was a start.

Her public redemption had been overly saccharine and ingenuine. No amount of her ‘accountability’ for witnessing what had happened or her coming-out-of-the-closet moment in light of her less than platonic relationship with Alice had managed to convince Lewd that she was the angel she was promising to be. It had taken Carrington PR no time at all to have the only press responsible for bringing the truth to light in their back pockets, turning exposés into puff pieces almost overnight. He tried not to let himself stay angry - he had a path to follow, and he wouldn't let himself get sidetracked - but Kirby being the only one left standing meant that she was the one who controlled the narrative, and it  _ seemed _ like she was conveniently forgetting a few key details.

She wouldn’t be able to control the music, though, and the speculation that would follow. The public was already re-remembering their love for Alice that they’d so quickly forgotten when she passed, only to have it thrown back in their faces in the form of the documentary, and now with songs being pushed out, one by one at Lewd’s discretion, getting the late singer out of their minds would be even more difficult, if not entirely impossible. It was genius, from a marketing standpoint, and now that he was working with  _ Carrington,  _ it would be that much sweeter than any revenge that he could have cooked up during a weak moment of anger.

Ludesco wasn’t a stupid man. He could put together the pieces between Alice’s behaviour, the lyrics in the music, the half-assed story that Kirby had told the press and the way she shut down the rumours about the two of them by coyly insisting that it wouldn’t be right to Alice to talk about her without her present.

Alice hadn’t left an order for the tracks that they’d created together, but he had personally slaved over one himself now that she was gone. Kirby Anders, despite all of her smiling for the press, the sweet fan-focused photo ops, and all-around likable personality, was a fake. She had put up her walls - or rather, her team had - and she wasn’t letting anyone know what had happened between her and Alice.

Lewd would let her know that  _ he  _ knew, though. Like a cat batting around a ball of tin foil, he could make her feel at least a fraction of the loss that he had. He had no intention of sullying Alice’s name or memory by dragging out the story any longer. Kirby had laid it to rest, her hand had been played well, and it was finally his turn. Besides that, ‘exposing’ Kirby a second time wouldn’t do anything to bring Alice back. Her wall of publicity was impenetrable, and wasting time and resources on another glorified call-out post of an article would be pointless. Letting the guilt eat away at her, though, until he finally felt satisfied with the results - that was priceless.

Rolling his eyes to himself and clicking the television off, Lewd sat back in his seat and finished the last of his drink as Kirby’s face vanished from the screen and the room was thrown into darkness.

Without the cameramen begging for attention and the squealing excitement from fans filling his head any longer, he once again focused on the rain instead and began to scroll through the playlist in his phone of the remaining songs to be released. He was saving his favourites for last - the ones where Alice sounded so raw and real; leaving in all the imperfections in her vocal tracks and the obvious signs of fatigue in her tone. He’d thought that it all sounded so beautiful while they were making it, but knowing the full context, now, they sounded less sweet.  _ That  _ specific Alice hadn’t had a chance to make her debut. Kirby didn’t understand the magnitude of what she’d done.

Choosing the next track from the list and putting a reminder in his phone to set a meeting for the following morning, he settled back in his seat and closed his eyes.

  
Alice had told him “ _ when the time is right _ .” It was; he could feel it in his bones. 


	11. Chapter 11

Ignoring the pounding ache in her head and the anxious thudding of her heart against the inside of her chest, Fallon narrowed her eyes in concentration and began to slide the pills in front of her, two by two, from one pile into another.

_ Two, four, six… _

She knew that she’d counted right the first time, but focusing on the repetitive task kept her mind from wandering and making up excuses for the defence that weren’t necessarily deserved. She was torn between wanting to talk herself out of being upset, and wanting to stay alert, and angry.

_ Eight, ten, twelve, fourteen… _

She wasn’t even sure why she needed to know. The number wouldn’t mean anything without an understanding of how long it had been happening, at what intervals, and  _ why.  _ Deep down, she knew the other woman too well. She knew that Kirby would come out on top of whatever confrontation was awaiting them when she came home from her meeting, and that she’d have to do this again. She could predict everything about the other woman like she was writing her story herself - everything, except  _ this _ , apparently.

_ Sixteen, eighteen, twenty, twenty-two, twenty-four… _

Maybe it was her fault that she hadn’t heard about it yet. She  _ had _ been a little absent, both physically and mentally, as of late. She’d meant to check in a little more in light of all of the news about Alice - that had to be the cause of this, after all. It always was. Maybe Kirby had left the pills behind because she was done with them? Maybe she’d just wanted Fallon to find them.

_ Twenty-six. _

  
Fallon slid the pile down the counter and into her cupped palm, then reached for the worn-out bottle in front of her and poured the pills back into it. Maybe the entire culture of secrecy that she’d insisted on since she’d  _ met  _ Kirby had been to blame - she hadn’t exactly encouraged much open honesty and communication between the two of them, so Kirby reciprocating that energy shouldn’t have come to her as a total shock.

* * *

**TWENTY MONTHS EARLIER**

The hotel room had been a mistake. Fallon knew it, too, that booking the room so that they had somewhere ‘private to unwind’ was going to lead to nothing but trouble, but she was beginning to lose her grasp on the metaphorical leash she had wrapped around Kirby’s neck. That was what she told herself she was doing, at least, when she flirted, and gently coaxed the joint out of the other woman’s hands to offer a cigarette instead, and insisted time after time after time that she  _ only wanted what was best for her, really. _

She didn’t have the space in her schedule - her professional  _ or  _ personal one - to unpack how she was feeling. Quite frankly, it wasn’t important, either; as soon as the awards season ended, no matter the outcome, she’d be sending Kirby on her way - probably right back into Alice’s waiting arms, assuming the singer hadn’t grown tired of the hardened, tortured artist aesthetic that Kirby seemed to be so desperate to convince everyone was her perfect fit.

Fallon convinced herself, while Kirby dropped to her knees next to the bed and pulled Fallon’s legs around her shoulders, that this entire charade was for Kirby’s benefit. It was  _ Kirby  _ who wanted to be admired, and loved, and looked after, even as she shrugged off Fallon’s attempts to dominate the situation and went down on her so painstakingly slowly and gently that it was like she’d been presented with the holy grail.

Fallon’s plan to placate the actress with the sex she so  _ obviously  _ wanted after their one-off makeout session on her living room couch was going off the rails, but even Fallon Carrington, the ice queen, the modern-day Cersei, and whatever other cruel nicknames the press could come up with for her, didn’t have the strength or resolve to stop the other woman from sliding her fingers inside of her, sucking on the side of her neck. 

_ “Fuck,  _ Fallon.” 

It hadn’t been a conversational contribution, but something about the gentle awe in Kirby’s voice made Fallon squeeze her eyes shut and practically  _ mewl  _ in response, clutching the other woman closer, and  _ closer,  _ digging her nails into her arms and waist.

She managed to tip over the edge silently, shoving Kirby away before her body had finished its course, and immediately set to work, shoving the remaining layers of clothing out of her way and touching her. 

She had to admit that she was a little bit out of practice - but Kirby’s reactions were enthusiastic, and hungry, though Fallon suspected that it had more to do with the  _ who  _ than the  _ what _ . Any hint of crankiness that was leftover from the last interview that she’d just dragged Kirby from had vanished by the time Fallon propped herself back up and rested her chin against the other woman’s stomach. 

“Feel better?” It was surprisingly playful, but she couldn’t help herself.

Chuckling breathlessly, Kirby pushed her hair back from her face and let out a deep sigh.

“If I say no, will you do that again?”

Snorting dismissively, Fallon pushed herself up fully and stretched her legs out, trying to relieve a little bit of the residual shakiness. The redhead’s arm dropped to drape across her calves, but she ignored the gesture. It was too similar to Michael - and Fallon would put a stop to it just as soon as she actually caught her breath.

“Hey, what’s this? Is this a real tattoo?”

Gasping so loudly that Fallon was  _ sure  _ that anyone else staying on the same floor as the pair of them had to have heard her through the walls, she yanked her left leg back roughly and bolted upright from where she’d been lounging so lazily.

“A little sensitive?” was the actress’s next question.

Before Fallon could properly contemplate which of the two dead-end answers would cause  _ less  _ temptation for the other woman to find out for herself, Kirby had already started scooting closer to her across the bed. A tiny thrill of panic shot up her spine, which she told herself was from the imminent threat of being tickled, even though it was a lie, and she knew it. This scenario lacked the nervous anticipatory laughter and the giddy feeling of flirting like an idiotic teenager again.  _ This  _ was anticipatory in another way entirely. The moment Kirby slid across the bed and reached her, they’d be laughing. And wrestling. And then they’d realize how close together they were and everything would go quiet and all of  _ that  _ was reserved for  _ lovers,  _ which they most certainly were  _ not _ . 

Shooting up from the bed, Fallon reached for her skirt and rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be annoying. We need to get back down there before we’re late.”

“If I agree, will you tell me all about the tattoo?”

“No,” Fallon countered, “But if you agree, we get to leave on time, too. I don’t know about you, but I’m already sick of this hotel.”

She glanced around the room disdainfully, ignoring the almost hurt look that crossed Kirby’s face before vanishing again, replaced by a comfortable, flirty one. Shrugging, Kirby reached for her purse and pulled out both her phone and pill box.

“I’ll get it out of you. You don’t get to keep every  _ single  _ thing a secret.”

“That’s very threatening. I’m absolutely shaking,” Fallon deadpanned. The truth was, the implication of the words  _ was  _ threatening. 

“I mean, you were a few minutes ago -” Kirby started, but Fallon cleared her throat and cut her off.

“I’ll meet you downstairs. Get dressed. And fix your hair.”

  
She didn’t  _ intend  _ to turn their first time into such a quick and dirty throwaway, but it was safer for both Kirby’s feelings and her own that she did. Zipping the side of her skirt up and stepping back into her shoes, Fallon turned away from the other woman before she did something impulsive and stupid, like kiss her in parting, and made her way out of the room.

* * *

“Fallon?”

Kirby’s voice floated into the kitchen from the front foyer. It  _ felt  _ like she was back early, but with a quick glance at the clock, Fallon realized that she was actually late - she’d just been stuck in her own head for so long that she hadn’t realized how much time had passed.

“I’m in here,” she called back, swiping down the menu on her phone screen and switching it to ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode before turning it back over and placing it facedown on the countertop. 

She could hear the actress humming to herself as she took off her shoes and coat in the front hall, and almost felt a little guilty for the conversation she was about to have to start. 

“I ran into Cristal when I was leaving and she said to tell you that we’re all going to take the jet, together, Blake’s orders, and also to check your emails more often.” Kirby whisked into the kitchen and kissed Fallon’s temple before weaving around the island counter and swinging the fridge open. “And I already told Jeff that I’d get celebratory drinks with him tonight, did you want to come with -”

Kirby trailed off, staring into the fridge for a moment with a can of beer in one hand, and a container of leftovers in the other, before whirling around to face Fallon again.

“Where did you find that?”

As if finally processing what she was seeing, Kirby nodded to the pill bottle on the counter between them, her grip on the items in her hands tightening visibly. 

“What’re you and Jeff celebrating?” Fallon asked instead, hearing the tired dryness in her own voice.

Pulling up the seat opposite Fallon’s and sinking into it, Kirby emptied her hands and reached for the bottle instead. She wasn’t sure what came over her to spark the action, but Fallon reached out and slid the bottle back from her reach at once, and a heavy silence settled over both of them for a moment.

Realizing the implication of that one simple action, Fallon quickly slid the bottle back towards Kirby and cleared her throat.

“You left it in the restaurant bathroom. Someone else could have found it.”

Kirby watched Fallon for a moment before picking up the bottle and running her thumb over the worn label.

“Yeah, that’s… thank you for picking it up.”

“You have to be more careful than that.” Fallon glanced down at the counter between them instead, concentrating on the pattern of the granite to keep herself focused. “Please.”

“You’re right,” Kirby agreed, and the enthusiasm in her tone told Fallon that she was just desperate for the conversation to end. “It was reckless. I’ll, uh- I’ll be more careful.”

“Alright.”

Seeming to have changed her mind about the food, Kirby stood up and returned the container to the fridge, moving stiffly and quietly as if she was worried about startling Fallon into continuing the conversation. 

“I didn’t realize you were still… doing this.”

Fallon’s words caused her shoulders to tense, visible even from where she was sitting. The publicist hoped that at least a fraction of her tone conveyed how she was feeling.  _ You deserve your privacy, but I don’t know why you wouldn’t want me to know this. _

“This feels like I’m being accused of something,” Kirby told her, though her tone sounded meek and concerned, not angry. 

Gesturing at her vacant seat with a nod of her chin, Fallon laced her fingers together and rested her elbows on the edge of the counter. 

“I’m not accusing you of anything. It’s…  _ weird  _ that you didn’t tell me, given everything that’s been going on.”

“That’s not fair,” Kirby insisted, sliding into her seat and gesturing back at the brunette. “You don’t tell  _ me _ things, like… all of the time.”

“Things that I don’t want you to worry about,” Fallon insisted in return, realizing how helpless she felt when she heard the cracking in her own voice. “Seriously, I… what’s been going on with you?”

Holding up the pill bottle and shaking it gently, Kirby set it back on the countertop and then cracked open the beer in front of herself.

“I didn’t want you to worry, either.” Fallon was pleased to realize that her tone sounded defeated, usually a sure sign that she was going to finally get something out of her. “I’ve been feeling really…  _ off _ . And I think a lot of it just has to do with not working. It would be easier if you were here all the time-” she held a hand up before Fallon could interrupt, “-and I’m not blaming you, it’s just hard having nothing going on while everyone around me is always in such a huge hurry.” 

Just to hear her talking so openly felt like taking a deep breath after holding hers for so long. “Does this have anything to do with -”

“Alice?” Kirby cut her off, shaking her head adamantly. “No.”

“...I was  _ going _ to say  _ the wedding, _ ” Fallon replied slowly, feeling the nervousness physically prickling its way up the back of her neck again. “Tell me what it’s about, then.”

“I told you,” Kirby insisted, sipping from the can in her hands. “I just felt like everything was moving around me and I was staying in one place. It’ll be better now that I can get back to work.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to lie to me,” Fallon began, and, noting the suddenly defensive look the other woman gave her, quickly backtracking, “ _ Or _ that you need to hide anything. Especially something like this.” She flicked the bottle, watching it rock back and forth and nearly topple over before righting itself.

“Like I said,” Kirby hummed, “I didn’t want to worry you. And  _ also  _ like I said, you have a lot more going on than I do. I figured I’d ride this one out by myself - I can handle things alone, sometimes. I promise.”

“I know you can,” Fallon softened, reaching for her hand and covering it with her own. “I mean… I forget, sometimes. Since handling problems for you is literally my job, but -”

  
“As my girlfriend, or as my publicist?”

“I meant as your publicist, but it should be both,” Fallon conceded, squeezing her hand gently before letting it go.

“You promise you aren’t mad?” Kirby asked. Her question startled her - she’d been expecting more defensiveness; that was the way Kirby was usually wired.

“For what?”

Kirby poked the pill bottle, knocking it onto its side.

“No,” Fallon shook her head, sliding the bottle closer to her again, letting her know it was okay to grab them. “I’m not mad. I was just worried.”

“Okay,” Kirby breathed, standing up. “You didn’t tell me if you wanted to come out with Jeff and I.”

“What’re we celebrating?” Fallon asked, trying to keep her tone light. It was hard not to think of how quickly Kirby had supplied Alice’s name as a source for her anxiety, or the way that she had obviously been feeling it for a lot longer than Fallon realized. She squashed all of the thoughts that were pushing at the insides of her mind and forced a small, tight smile.

“We set up a meeting for  _ Untitled Piper Solveil Project,  _ speaking of getting back to work.”

Fallon lit up, standing up from her seat.

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah… wow, Cristal was right, you  _ do _ need to be checking your email more often.” Kirby’s tone was light, and she was visibly pushing to inject some of their usual playfulness back into the conversation - Fallon wasn’t the only one uncomfortable with the entire confrontation.

“It’s just been today,” Fallon sighed. “Besides, I’m still not used to having to actually pay attention to Jeff so vigilantly because  _ someone  _ had to go and hire him.”

She gave Kirby a pointed look, but the actress just half-smiled and shrugged.

“He did get me this meeting.”

“Right, now he’s trying to whisk my girlfriend away to the land of… bratwurst and schnitzel for two months,” Fallon mock-complained.

Kirby chuckled quietly to herself, glancing at the pills one more time before setting her half-empty beer can beside them and leaving them in their spot. Making her way around the counter to where Fallon was still perched at the island, she kissed her forehead, and then her lips, pulling back to look at her more seriously.

“I’m sorry for worrying you. I promise things are okay, now.”

“Okay,” Fallon sighed, feeling a little lighter, already. “I’m going to answer those emails while you get ready.”

Slipping away from the brunette’s reach, Kirby headed out of the kitchen, and Fallon listened for her heading all the way upstairs before reaching for the pill bottle one more time and squinting at the worn out label.

They were considerably stronger than anything Fallon had ever been prescribed, which was worrying in itself, but she shook the thought from her head and forced herself to stop dwelling on it. They’d had enough secrets both in the last few months  _ and  _ over the course of their relationship to last a lifetime, and if Kirby said that she was being honest now, then the new-and-improved, slightly-less-controlling Fallon was going to believe her. 

Turning ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode off on her phone, Fallon opened her email and refreshed her inbox. Texts and voicemails flooded in on the top of her screen, and just as she was about to open the jet-related email from Cristal, Scarlett’s name caught her eye from her notifications bar.

_ [4:42PM] Scarlett Barnes: do you have time for a working lunch tomorrow? It’s on me, name the place. :) _

Double-checking her schedule, which Fallon noted with pre-emptive exhaustion was already packed, she quickly replied to Scarlett’s text to let her know about the small gap between meetings and what she and Kirby had deemed the ‘appropriate time for her to be home’ that she had available.

_ ‘Let’s make it drinks,’  _ she typed back,  _ ‘I’ll see you at Atlas at 7pm?’ _

Tapping her phone against her chin in thought as she waited for a response, Fallon listened for the sounds of Kirby getting ready upstairs, smiling softly to herself when she heard the telltale groan of frustration of the redhead not being able to get the bluetooth speaker to behave.

_ [4:46PM] Scarlett Barnes: Never been, sounds good. _

The fancy bars on weeknights and set-visits were already becoming tiring for Fallon, but it was all a small price to pay to keep an up-and-comer like Scarlett in her stable. It could have been worse - specifically, if she didn’t have the success record that she did, Genie could have personally been making it worse for her - so she counted her blessings and tried not to let herself imagine the Thursday morning hangover from the low-alcohol, high-sugar cocktails that she would be undoubtedly dealing with.

Quickly adding it to her calendar before she could forget, Fallon stood up herself and took Kirby’s half-empty drink to the sink, pouring it out and wiping her hands before heading upstairs to join her.


	12. Chapter 12

“I don’t want to jinx it,” Jeff glanced back over his shoulder at Kirby as he spoke before pushing his office door open and holding it for her. “But I think that went pretty well. I’d brush up on my German, if I were you.”

Blushing in a combination of bashfulness and adrenaline, Kirby took a seat across from the desk and tried to calm her nerves. Jeff was almost humming to himself, clearly pleased, as he poured them each a generous glass of scotch from the bar cart. She hadn’t expected when she’d woken up that morning that she might end up with a new part so quickly, but Jeff had made it clear within just a few days that he had Kirby’s career prioritized at all times. 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Kirby insisted, gratefully accepting the glass and then hazarding a glance at the windows leading to the hallway before taking a sip.

“We’re practically alone on this floor, today,” came Jeff’s answer to the question that she hadn’t asked out loud.

“I expected that my day would be more packed than this.” Kirby reclined in the seat a little, letting the relief of her meetings being over wash over her. 

“It’s a beautiful day, and you’re not the one stuck in an office.” Jeff smiled and sipped from his own glass before setting it on the edge of his desk and steadying his gaze on her more seriously. “This shoot isn’t going to get in the way of the whole wedding thing, is it?”

“You’re still assuming that I got it,” Kirby pointed out, though she had to admit that his confidence was beginning to rub off on her. The part already felt like it was hers, but she didn’t want to get her hopes up. “But _if_ I do land it, no, it won’t. We leave for the wedding in a couple of weeks.”

“Lucky you,” Jeff chuckled, “You get to spend a weekend with the Carringtons, and then immediately leave for a foreign land. I’d want the vacation, too.”

“It’s work, not a vacation,” Kirby replied, “And don’t be shitty.”

Her response made the man across from her laugh genuinely, sitting upright in his seat and planting both feet on the ground beneath his chair. 

“Alright, I’m sorry. I kid.” 

A soft knock on the door behind Kirby caused her to whirl around in her chair, freezing at the sight of Cristal standing in the doorway. The other woman’s eyes dropped from her face to the glass of scotch in her hand, one eyebrow raising slightly, though the rest of her expression remained unchanged.

“We were just celebrating,” Jeff supplied helpfully.

Cristal’s almost unimpressed look turned hopeful in the blink of an eye, her face lighting up as she looked between the two of them.

“You got the Piper Solveil project?”

Kirby chewed her lip.

“Not quite…”

“It’s in the bag,” Jeff insisted, speaking over her and waving a hand.

Cristal seemed distracted, though, jumping quickly to her next thought.

“I need to borrow Kirby for a minute.”

“All yours,” Jeff gestured, turning his attention to his computer as Kirby shakily stood up from her own seat and followed Cristal out of the office and into the empty hallway. 

Reaching around Kirby to close the door behind them, Cristal cleared her throat softly and glanced at the glass still clutched in the actress’s hand before speaking.

“I noticed that there’s a gap in Fallon’s schedule tonight and thought the two of you could… come by.” The woman’s eyes dropped to the glass once more, and Kirby defensively set it aside on the nearest table to try to draw her attention back to her face.

“I’d have to see what Fallon had planned,” Kirby replied. The idea seemed pleasant enough to _her_ , but she didn’t want the argument of signing Fallon onto plans that they hadn’t already discussed together.

“Perfect,” Cristal reached for Kirby’s glass casually as she spoke, picking it up and handing it back to her. “I’ll let the two of you get back to… celebrating.”

Her tone was far from cruel, but it still sent a shiver down Kirby’s spine as she walked away and vanished around the corner of the hall. The last thing she needed was more than one of the Carringtons acting concerned about her habits. 

As she turned to head back into Jeff’s office, another figure down the hall caught her eye, and she dipped back to watch him as he headed for the elevators.

“...Will?”

The man stopped in his tracks, pivoting on his heel to the source of her voice, and then broke into a wide grin.

Making his way towards her, he held his arms out and pulled her into a hug as he approached, like he hadn’t seen her in years. It had only been about a month, but she still always realized how much she missed his presence when he wasn’t nearby.

“Are you just leaving?” She asked.

“Trying to. It’s like, everywhere I look, there’s opportunities and million-dollar offers and it is a _drag.”_ His tone was sarcastic, but the easy smile on his face was genuine. “You?”

“Just finishing a meeting,” she explained, glancing back at Jeff’s door when she heard the telltale sound of his desk squeaking on the floor. “Are you busy?”

“Not at all, if it’s you asking,” Will started, glancing up as the door swung open behind them and Jeff appeared.

Kirby handed him her half-empty tumbler of scotch before Will could ask. 

“We were just wrapping up, right?”

“Sure.”

“Perfect,” she turned to Will again, adjusting the collar of her sweater and pulling her hair free from it. “Let’s go, I could use a drink.”

“It’s 11:30 in the morning,” Will pointed out.

“Lunch, then,” Kirby rolled her eyes despite her good mood, linking her arm into his and beginning to lead them towards the bank of elevators before he could question her motives again. “On me. We need to catch up.”

* * *

“--And I don’t even know if I’ll actually get it, but _wow_ it felt good to actually… _try_ again, you know? I felt like I was going to be wading through shallow scripts for the next year until I finally caved in and picked up a bad sequel, or… I don’t know, gave up entirely on joined one of those four thousand superhero cable shows.”

Will snorted as he took a drag from his cigarette, coughing loudly as Kirby reached over to clap him on the shoulders. 

The weather was nice enough to warrant walking to lunch, which gave Kirby and Will additional time to catch up - and chain smoke - along the way. 

“You could do a lot worse than Germany,” the older man practically wheezed, thumping himself in the chest before clearing his throat and taking another drag from his smoke.

“Could I?” Kirby wondered aloud, falling back into step with him. “I think maybe I should start exclusively looking for location shoots in tropical places.”

“Because you’re so hard done by with the weather between LA and Australia,” Will replied sarcastically.

Gently shoving his shoulder, Kirby rolled her eyes.

“I haven’t been back home, actually. But!” She turned to him, one finger up. “I _am_ going to Atlanta soon.”

_“Atlanta,”_ Will repeated, with an exaggerated southern drawl. “For what?”

“Fallon’s brother is getting married,” she explained. “Have you been?”

“To Georgia?” Will clarified, before shaking his head. “No. I prefer just a _little_ more available coast than that.”

Kirby looked over at him for a moment, squinting at the sun that backlit him.

“You’re sort of a wimp, has anyone ever told you that?”

“ _Hey now,”_ he tried to sound stern, but the laugh was evident in his voice. He reached across her and took the cigarette from her lips, tossing it into the street with his own as they approached the patio of the restaurant.

Will always seemed a little more relaxed about being out in public than Kirby felt. She assumed it had to do with his considerably larger body of experience, but then again, Alice had always loved the public, too. Perhaps certain people were just wired differently than she was used to.

He chose them a sidewalk patio table, pulling her seat out for her as they approached before collapsing into his own chair across from her and pulling his sunglasses off.

“What’s been eating you?” He finally asked, once their drink orders had been taken.

“What do you mean?” Kirby asked, cocking her head to one side. “I just wanted to catch up.” 

“Oh,” Will leaned back in his seat, smiling lightly. “I didn’t mean to assume. To be honest, you seem… different. Good different,” he added, when she was sure she suddenly looked offended.

“So what’s improved, then?” She asked, mostly playfully.

“I don’t mean it like _that,_ either,” he chuckled. “I just… I’m glad to see that things all worked out. I know they were rough for a while, there.”

Kirby blushed, dropping his gaze and picking at the corner of her menu to distract herself.

“It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Will assured her, picking up on her obvious deflection. “But I mean what I said. I’m glad to see you’re still… out here, doing this. Being happy. You _are_ happy, right?”

His last question was playful, but Kirby smiled, shrugging.

“I am. Things are really good.”

Watching her, for a moment, Will leaned forward in his seat.

_“Good_ -good? Or conditionally good?”

“What does that even mean?” Kirby asked, feeling suddenly defensive.

“Like… are things good because _things_ are good, or are they good because _you're_ good?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but his question had stopped her in her tracks. The defensive feeling only flared up further as she tried to wrap her mind around his question, and her own answer.

“I’m good,” she assured him, despite not having given herself the chance to decide if it were true or not. The truth was, if her answer wasn't accurate, it wouldn't have mattered. _That_ was a thought exercise for when she was alone, not out to what was supposed to be a semi-celebratory lunch with an old friend. 

“Good.”

Dropping the subject, Will pulled the appetizer menu towards himself and left Kirby to her own thoughts. 

Pulling her phone out, she brought up her text thread with Fallon.

_'busy tonight?’_

Fallon answered almost instantly.

_[11:59AM] Fallon: Yes._

Blindly reaching into her bag and retrieving her pill bottle, Kirby rattled one into her hand as she typed out a response.

_‘how lucky for you, cristal wanted us to come over’_

Smiling slightly at the mental image of Fallon doing a victory dance around the living room back at home, Kirby glanced up from her phone as their drinks arrived and took a generous sip from her glass of wine before throwing back the pill in her hand.

Setting her phone aside to focus on her lunch date, instead, Kirby settled in with her wine and waited for the comfortable warmth from the medication to settle in over her. The combination of good company, the alcohol, and the sun on her shoulders made the day feel brand new.

* * *

“Fallon? You home?” Kirby tucked her keys back into her purse as she walked into the foyer, shivering in the frigid, air-conditioned room. 

There was no answer, and just as she reached into her purse for her phone, it began to ring in her hand.

An unrecognizable number flashed on the screen, and Kirby frowned at it before giving up with a shrug and declining the call. Kicking off her shoes and padding towards the staircase, she leaned on the railing and called for her girlfriend once more.

“Fallon?”

It was perfectly still, and quiet though, so she made her way up the stairs towards their slightly warmer bedroom.

Having the house to herself wasn’t a rarity, not with Fallon so busy with work, but having the house to herself when she was in such an upbeat mood was a little different. With no plans for the rest of the evening and no girlfriend to spend the night in with, Kirby weighed her options.

She could catch up on her _Netflix_ queue. Fallon’s new work relationship with Scarlett Barnes had reminded Kirby that she had more than a few scary movies she’d been meaning to watch when she had the opportunity - Fallon wasn’t a fan, and she didn’t much like watching them alone, at night, either. Shrugging her cardigan off onto the end of the bed and wandering into the bathroom to wash her face, Kirby distinctly remembered what remained of her stash, tucked into the outdoor bar by the pool.

Letting out one single, triumphant “ _HA!”,_ Kirby winced at the facial cleanser that immediately made its home in both her eyes and mouth, spitting into the sink and blindly wincing as she reached for her towel.

She hadn’t smoked up and watched a scary movie since the two of them had first moved into the house together. Fallon’s silent judging looks had been enough of a deterrent, even though she never said anything about it aloud, so that afternoon would be the perfect opportunity. It wasn’t that she was _hiding_ it, she was just keeping it out of sight and out of mind.

Tying her hair up into a messy knot at the top of her head, and changing into a pair of flowing, cashmere-esque pajama pants, Kirby made her way back downstairs and out into the yard, grabbing both the jar and her papers to settle in and get to work.

A gentle breeze moved through the trees that shrouded their backyard oasis in privacy, rustling the leaves and bringing a pleasant coolness to the otherwise too-warm weather. 

She rolled quietly for a few moments, ignoring the inconvenience of the uneven surface that her knees provided, and considered texting Fallon to check when she actually would be home but ultimately decided to leave her to it. If things went as well Jeff felt confident that they would, she would be back to work on her own too in no time, and would spend way more time than an afternoon away from Fallon - she may as well get used to it.

Lighting her freshly - albeit clumsily - rolled joint and getting up to return the jar to its hiding place, Kirby surveyed the yard. She'd never had one like it before, not even in her last place - a rental forty minutes out of the city that had been her oasis during _The Last Fire._ When she and Fallon had gone looking at houses together, just to start getting ideas, she had pictured the yard being filled with people more often. The house they'd decided on was too big for just them - not that Kirby was complaining. Fallon was used to a different standard of size, and she valued her privacy. Kirby could get behind that, even if it seemed like the space was being a little under-utilized at times. 

When they’d first moved in, she would catch Fallon wandering from room to room for no reason, humming to herself and pacing. When Kirby asked what it was all about, she’d said it was nice to be able to stretch out, and breathe, as if her massive two-floor condo downtown had been a linen closet. 

Settling in at the edge of the pool and crossing her legs, Kirby watched the cover on the water ripple and wave as the wind moved it, letting her eyes go out of focus as she continued to smoke without taking much time to breathe. She had to admit, she was sort of excited to have a nice, quiet, stoned afternoon in. Some snacks, something gory on tv, and no nagging reminders about work or anything else that had been bothering her, as of late.

She was feeling good enough by the time she stood up that she considered even going back inside and looking up that Alice song that they’d heard while they were out dress shopping. She felt brave, but she could hear Fallon’s voice in the back of her head as if she were there.

_Don’t be stupid._

Crushing the roach from her joint under the sole of one of her slides and heading back towards the massive sliding doors that led into the house, Kirby shook off the idea and began to make a mental game-plan for snacks, instead.

The last thing she needed was to call Fallon, freaking out for her to come home early, or to go to bed upset and have some kind of insane dream that the other woman would be able to read on her face in the morning like she always seemed to do.

Once she was properly settled in with reheated pasta, a few slices of toast, an entire pitcher of juice, and an apple, Kirby took to scrolling through the movies that she’d listed months prior and never managed to get around to. Picking something as corny and disgusting looking as she could find - she did have to take advantage of the Fallon-free time, after all - and kicking her feet up on the table in front of her, she let herself zone out for the next hour without much interruption.

Her phone buzzed on the couch beside her, but each time she checked it, it was only unimportant and uninteresting social media updates, or the occasional news alert filling her email inbox. Around the halfway mark of her movie, one particular headline did catch her eye, and she barely had time to process it before she was suddenly thrown into a text-groupchat.

_[3:08PM] Fallon: Someone please tell me what the hell this is._

The _this_ attached was a screenshot of the headline that Kirby had barely managed to read. 

_Constance Warlick, Kirby Anders, among potential names for Piper Solveil’s upcoming Mythological Epic_

Kirby’s chest tightened with excitement for a moment.

_‘wait,’_ she typed back, sending it before starting to type the second part of her thought. _‘does this mean i -’_

Fallon’s next text appeared before she could finish her sentence.

_[3:09PM] Fallon: Hello? Seriously, what is going on?_

_[3:10PM] Jeff: Relax, it’s a rumour piece, I got the same story in my inbox._

_[3:10PM] Fallon: Who OK’d this?_

Kirby stared at her screen, dumbstruck, feeling it buzz in her hands as her manager and publicist carried on their conversation without her.

Of course, the first time she decided to get stoned in months, and the entire world came crashing down around her, needing her immediate - sober - undivided attention. She didn’t exactly feel lucid enough for the conversation.

It was silent for a moment, which she took as her cue to reply.

_‘do i need to do anything, here?’_

_[3:12PM] Fallon: no._

_[3:12PM] Fallon: I’m on my way home and then meeting Scarlett, we can talk about it then._

  
Feeling uncomfortably ‘told’ despite knowing deep down that she hadn’t _really_ done anything wrong - though she felt a little guilty, looking around the mess of snacks, and her exceptionally too-lazy-for-midday attire - Kirby hopped up from the couch and set to work tidying up.

* * *

“I told you that this was going to be complicated!” Fallon didn't bother with a ‘hello’ when she marched into the house no more than twenty minutes later. 

Sitting up after having just laid back down on the couch to relax, Kirby quirked an eyebrow and opened her mouth to reply, but the other woman was quicker.

“I can't have him… casually telling people about your plans without talking to _me_ first, I’m supposed to make sure that we have a handle on - what, did you decide to start lifting again?”

Nodding to the (now neatly organized, at least) smorgasbord of snacks on the coffee table, Fallon crossed her arms over her chest.

“Uhh…” Her brain seemed just a little fuzzy around the edges, and coming up with a quick reply wasn't nearly as easy as it usually was for the redhead. “No, just… watching a movie.”

That directed Fallon’s attention to the screen, which she made a disgusted face at before shaking it off and turning to Kirby once more.

“You know better, and he was in my position not that long ago - he should know better, too. I’d like to say this is so unlike him, but this is _waaay_ too casual and loose for me. I'm supposed to have final say before anything goes public, that's literally my entire job description. I have enough on my plate with Scarlett, and Will, and hopefully you if everything goes well, which it totally will, I have complete faith that you’re going to-”

“You're stressing me out a bit.” Kirby hadn't even realized that she'd said it, but the words stopped Fallon in her tracks again.

“I - okay.” Kirby had expected more of a fight, but Fallon just dropped her arms, and her gaze, and stood up to her full height. “I’m sorry. I’ll deal with him, and you just… focus on the meeting.”

She crossed the room and leaned over to kiss Kirby’s forehead, and paused. For a second, the redhead thought she could still smell the smoke on her, and was going to comment, but she didn't.

“I don't know when I’ll be back, I have to go back to the office and then I have a dinner meeting - might turn into cocktails. You okay here?”

“I’m fine,” Kirby promised, smiling stiffly. “Have a good meeting.”

Fallon turned to head back towards the front hall.

“I’ll call you if I’m out early, try to get an early night.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kirby waved a hand despite her not looking, and then reached for her earlier-abandoned bag of potato chips. The front door slammed shut, and she used one foot to reach for the remote and resume the blood-curdling carnage on-screen.


	13. Chapter 13

“I am  _ so  _ sorry, I’m usually never late.” Fallon rushed up to the bar, nearly skidding to a halt next to where Scarlett was perched. She had planned to only stop in at the office to leave herself plenty of time to get to the bar on time, but had ended up distracted by re-educating the interns at the desk on how to properly screen calls - which was so far below her pay grade that she considered firing their actual supervisor on the spot, or at least threatening to since she didn’t have the  _ real  _ power to - and nearly didn’t leave herself enough time to meet with Scarlett. 

“You’re fine, you’re fine,” Scarlett assured her, turning on her own stool and smiling brightly as Fallon clambered less-than-gracefully up onto the seat beside her. How she was always so ‘on’ was a mystery to Fallon, though she was beginning to suspect that it may have been part of a ‘please like me’ sort of facade. 

“So, I was thinking, since I have such intense guidelines from production, maybe we want to focus more on -”

“Whoa, now,” Scarlett flashed Fallon another grin, fiddling with the napkin in front of herself. “At least let me get a drink, first.”

“Of course,” Fallon breathed, settling into her own seat properly and turning to face the bartender as he made his way over to them. “We can start a tab.”

Handing her corporate black card over, Fallon turned her attention back to Scarlett as she chewed on her lip and eyed the bottles behind the bar.

“I don’t know… what’s good? I like something sweet.” She punctuated her words with a bell-like laugh, and Fallon could literally almost  _ see  _ the bartender swoon. She had to admit, if everything about Scarlett really was just an elaborate act of self-branding, she was doing a hell of a job. She probably didn’t need Fallon after all - not that Fallon had any plans to tell her that.

“I’ll just get the house Merlot, please. Make it a nine-ounce.” Fallon’s order was considerably less cutesy, but Scarlett didn’t seem to mind. 

“Genie’s been talking about you,” Scarlett teased, fiddling with her napkin once more. “She said you walked into that set like it was a buffet. She can be kind of a hard-ass, hey?”

Fallon snorted at the choice of words, shaking her head a little as their drinks were placed in front of them. Her simple glass of wine looked very plain next to the brightly colored, overly-garnished cocktail that had been made for Scarlett. 

“I’m sure she’s great. And I have no intention of stealing anyone away or distracting you guys from your work. We can work together on this. My whole job is much easier when we’re all on the same team,” Fallon pitched, growing bored with herself in the middle of her own sentence. It was the same spiel she always used to try to soothe over the roughness of difficult directors, studios, and even actors. 

“I know!” Scarlett’s excitement startled her. “That’s what I keep saying, but y’know. Some people need to see it to believe it! That’s why I’m so excited about everything you have planned.”

“Right,” Fallon circled back, “So like I was saying, the guidelines from production are pretty strict, but I can work within them. I want to focus on you, specifically. Your personal brand outside of this feature, how landing this role out of how many unknowns has changed things for you, both career-wise and personally, the whole nine yards.”

“I don’t know how much of a  _ personal brand _ I really have,” Scarlett chuckled, stirring her drink before taking a sip.

“I told you,” Fallon reminded her, “That’s where I come in. Trust me, I’ve had much more work cut out for me before. With you, we’re lucky - we get to build something from the ground up. It all depends on who you want to be.”

Scarlett seemed to consider that for a moment, her eyes sparkling. Fallon had seen that look before; the dawning realization of how many opportunities were available, the understanding that nothing in the past mattered, at least nothing that Carrington PR was able to find and clean up, and the chance to finally  _ make it. _

“I suppose I’d want to be someone who works a lot, then,” Scarlett decided.

Her response made Fallon laugh, lifting her glass up in suggestion and winking when the actress clinked the rim of her own glass against Fallon’s. 

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Hey, actually, I did have one favour to ask you.”

Turning in her seat so that their knees almost brushed together, Fallon steadied her gaze on the other woman, trying to signal how intently she was listening.

“Y’know  _ Fangoria _ ?”

Fallon rolled the name around in her mind. It wasn’t anything she’d ever had a client work with, before.

“It’s a horror magazine. Actually,” Scarlett continued, “It’s  _ the  _ horror magazine. Genie has like, every single issue in her office, it’s kind of crazy. Anyway, it’s like, a huge deal. I bet if you could get me in with them, Genie would ask you to marry her on the spot.”

Fallon hummed thoughtfully.

“I’ll have to check if that’s my jurisdiction. I’m sure if I’m allowed to, though, I can,” she replied confidently. “It’s a magazine. Nobody  _ reads  _ anymore, anyway.”

Scarlett shrugged, smiling.

“It’s just a suggestion. Plus, then it’s like you said - everybody wins. Genie gets her magazine, I get the press, and you have Genie all…  _ Team Fallon _ .”

“That would be nice,” Fallon mused, smiling a little when she caught Scarlett’s eye. “I’ll see what I can do.”

She watched the actress swipe some sugar from the rim of her glass and pop her finger into her mouth, twitching her eyebrows playfully as if caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. She was tough to read - if she were anyone else, Fallon would have  _ assumed  _ she was flirting with her, but everything about her was too  _ soft  _ and innocent, and it was almost like she didn’t have a clue that she was doing any of it.

Kirby had been hard to read, too, though. When they’d started working together she was so chaotic and impossible to predict, but then Fallon had gotten to know her - and figure out exactly how she operated, and suddenly it was all very simple. Scarlett would be the same - not that she’d given Fallon any reason to be worried or overwhelmed thus far. She was a breath of fresh air, really. While Fallon still had her work cut out for her with organizing everything for both Scarlett and Will Chevale,  _ on top  _ of keeping track of Kirby, it was nice to have things running smoothly for once in her life. 

“So what do you have for me?”

Scarlett’s words snapped Fallon out of her thoughts, and she quickly reached into her bag to grab her typed-up list of publications that she’d gotten ahold of.

“We can start with these unless you have an issue with any of them.”

“Why would I have an issue with any of them?” Scarlett asked with a smile, pulling the sheet closer to pore over it thoughtfully. Fallon stared at her for a beat too long before realizing that the question was genuine, so she dismissively waved it away as if it were dust particles in the air.

“No reason. Everything looks good?”

“Ooh, I love  _ Popnosis!”  _ Scarlett tapped one French-manicured nail against the page excitedly. “They’re so funny, I literally get sucked into doing those ‘what kind of bread are you’ quizzes every time I end up on their site. You could really get me in with them?”

“Oh, yeah,” Fallon tried to hide her amusement, tugging her phone out and pulling up her text-thread with Liam. “One of their better writers is a friend of mine. Besides, I  _ met  _ you at one of their parties, they obviously adore you.”

_ ‘Scarlett is psyched to work with you. She loves the dorky little quizzes you guys do when you don’t have any real headlines to publish.’ _

She sent the text with a smirk and glanced back up at the actress as she read over the rest of the list.

“This is sort of surreal. All of it, I mean - the movie itself, these are all magazines I grew up reading. If you had told me when I was in school that I’d be in  _ Cosmopolitan,  _ I’d have thought you were pulling my leg.”

Fallon chuckled, ignoring her phone as it buzzed in her hand with Liam’s undoubtedly equally-snarky response to her message.

“D’you work out? I have a friend at  _ Women’s Health _ \- you’d be surprised how many people you can pick up for a fanbase just by drinking a protein shake or owning a treadmill.”

Scarlett shook her head.

“I was taking a spin class for a while, but I was  _ real _ bad at it. You don’t have any tips, do you?” The actress turned to her, suddenly eyeing her up and down. Fallon squirmed in her seat in spite of herself and Scarlett shook her head with a disappointed click of her tongue. “I’d kill to look like you.”

Fallon wasn’t sure if she was flirting, simply being polite, or if she’d suddenly gone blind. Scarlett looked like something that couldn’t have been better-imagined by a seventeen year old boy who had just discovered his own dick. To think that she carried even a single semblance of insecurity was mind-numbing. 

It was also difficult to wrap her head around the way that Scarlett returned each of her professional questions with a personal one. Fallon hadn’t experienced that since Kirby - and back then, Kirby’s entire intention had almost always been to torture the publicist in any way possible. Scarlett, however, just oozed some specifically personal brand of Southern hospitality that Fallon hadn’t mentally prepared for. It was difficult to teach herself to lean into the questions. Scarlett had made herself pretty clear, in one way or another, that her relationship with Fallon, or anyone else on her personal team for that matter, had to have a personal touch. It was simply and obviously how she operated, and Fallon was determined to fit in with that team - just in her own careful sort of way.

“Would you think about coming by the set again?” Scarlett asked. “We’ve got this one  _ huge  _ one-take we have to get, and there’s going to be some press, I think. It’s going to be a pretty big weekend.”

Fallon opened her mouth to agree without thinking, before catching herself and sighing.

“Seriously, I’d love to, but I have a wedding this weekend, back home.” She remembered their first discussion about Atlanta, and hoped that reminding the actress of that specific personal connection that they shared would keep her in a good mood despite Fallon’s rejection. 

“Oh right, your brother’s getting married!” Scarlett’s eyes lit up. “Wow, that’s so exciting.” 

Relaxing a little, Fallon sipped her wine again and nodded.

“It’s going to be great,” she lied. “I can’t wait.”

“You’ll have to show me pictures when you get back. Your girlfriend going with you, too?”

_ That  _ question stopped Fallon in her tracks. She hadn’t mentioned Kirby to Scarlett. She knew it wasn’t a huge secret; however, it  _ was _ a weird blur between not only clients but her personal and professional life. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, we’re both going.”

“You’re going to have so much fun,” Scarlett practically sighed, resting her cheek on her fist and leaning against the bar dreamily. “I love weddings.”

Fallon was tempted to joke that Scarlett would be welcome to take her place, but reined it in, and swallowed the bitter, pessimistic comment before it could surface.

“I’ll bring you back a favour bag. It’ll be like you were there.”

Laughing and reaching over to push Fallon’s arm gently in response, Scarlett shook her head and sipped her drink again.

“You’re funny. I’m glad we found each other.”

Before Fallon could properly process yet  _ again _ whether the comment and gesture fell under ‘just being nice’ or ‘flirting’, Scarlett was turning back to the bartender and flagging him down.

“Let me get you another drink,” she insisted, tapping the sheet of publications again. “We can go over a schedule for these.”


	14. Chapter 14

“I got you something.”

Kirby blinked herself awake, squinting at the sight of her girlfriend hovering over her in their bed.

“Oh,” A look of genuine sympathy flashed across Fallon’s face for a split second. “I thought you were already awake and faking it. Did you hear me?”

“You got me something?” Kirby repeated questioningly, her words slurring together a little from sleep. 

“Mhm, but you have to get up.”

The surface of the bed shifted as Fallon’s weight left it, and Kirby sat upright, her curiosity making her more alert. She watched as Fallon vanished into the closet and swung her legs over the edge of the bed to climb out from her warm fortress of blanket and pillows.

“Why are you being so weird?” Kirby asked, wandering into the closet as well and rubbing her eyes irritably. She didn’t mean to sound so cranky, but the second joint that she’d rolled for herself and finished before climbing into bed  _ alone  _ the night before had left her sluggish and sloth-like.

“Don’t be mad.” Fallon’s warning introduced the large box in her hands as she held it out to the other woman.

“Why would I -  _ Fallon.”  _ Lifting the top of the box slightly revealed a shock of red material that Kirby recognized instantly as the dress that she’d tried on in  _ Valentino  _ when she and Fallon had…  _ attempted  _ to shop for outfits for Steven’s wedding. “This is too much.”

“It’s a gift,” Fallon insisted, pushing the box further into her arms when Kirby made a movement to hand it back. “I want you to wear it. You can upstage my mom.”

Her excuse wrung a small disbelieving chuckle out of the actress as she slowly lifted the lid again to admire the dress. It was entirely too expensive for a ‘just because’ sort of gift. It was beyond even what she was planning to do for Fallon’s birthday that year. 

“You’ll wear it?” Fallon asked, after she had been quiet for a beat too long.

“Yes. But I mean it, this is  _ way _ too much.” Kirby set the box aside and pulled the dress from it to hold it up and admire it. 

“Trust me, you won’t be overdressed  _ or  _ over budget, not for a Carrington wedding.” Fallon pulled a pair of scissors from the nearest drawer and reached for the dress, snipping the tag away before Kirby could do much more than squawk in protest. “I had it taken in already, we used your dress from the  _ Golden Globes _ last year for it.”

Turning to face her reflection with her dress held to her frame, Kirby tilted her head to the side and admired it, trying to picture how it was going to look with a full face of makeup and her hair properly styled - not the puffy eyes and bedhead that she was currently sporting.

“You sleep okay?” Fallon asked, causing her to glance up at the other woman through their reflection in the mirror.

“Yeah, like a rock. When did you get in?”

“Not too late. Before midnight, I thought you’d still be up. Appetizers and cocktails with Scarlett ran a little later than I thought it would.” 

Humming thoughtfully as she reached for a hanger and delicately hooked the dress onto it, Kirby glanced back at her girlfriend.

“Well, I’m glad she can respect a curfew. When she asks me for your hand, should I ask for goats?”

Reaching over and swatting at her shoulder harmlessly, Fallon shook her head.

“You’d like her.”

“So you keep saying,” Kirby pointed out, “And yet…”

“I told you to focus.” Fallon stepped a little closer and took both of Kirby’s now free hands in her own, dipping her head to catch her gaze and smiling a little. “Are you all packed for tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Kirby sighed, “Seeing as the packing list is only about three items long.”

“Well, I told you,” Fallon chuckled, “We’re staying at the house I grew up in. There’s nothing you could even think to want that you can’t have.”

“Anything?” Kirby repeated dubiously.

“Anything.”

“You know I can handle myself, right? I do have a job. It pays pretty well.” 

Kirby’s comment made Fallon laugh. “I know that, but I want you to relax. Besides, it’s the least my family can do to pay you back after dragging you into all of this.”

“No one’s dragging me into anything,” Kirby promised. “I told you that I wanted to come.” 

“I have some last-minute stuff to get done at the office, I just wanted to make sure you liked it first.” Fallon nodded at the dress as Kirby put its hanger back into place against the wall.

“Of course I do.”

“Good.” Stepping closer and kissing her cheek quickly, Fallon left her alone, already dialing on her phone screen and raising it to her ear as she headed back into the bedroom.

Turning her attention back to the dress, Kirby held the ends of the sleeves and admired it once more. Her dress at her first-ever Oscar’s ceremony hadn’t even been as expensive - and that had been more than she’d ever seen a single item of clothing cost before. Something about the way that Fallon had just handed it to her - a gift with no real reasoning except to show up others on account of being the best dressed - made her skin prickle uncomfortably, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on the  _ why  _ of it all.

Fallon was rich. It wasn’t a secret, nor was it anything that Kirby had ever really thought about too deeply in the past, but the knowledge was setting in, now, as she toyed with the material between her fingers and realized that Fallon thought that this dress - this small fortune of a bundle of material - suited Kirby. She wouldn’t be playing dress-up by kicking off her pajamas into a heap on the floor at her feet and reaching for it. The worried, uncomfortable feeling faded away as Kirby thought about it more. Fallon wasn’t dating down, with her. She just hadn’t stopped to realize exactly how much different her lifestyle was now than it had been only two years prior. 

The dress slid onto her like it was made of water, wrapping around her body and making her feel instantly cool despite the warmth of the room. It really was stunning - but she was certain she could have found a less expensive alternative.

She probably wouldn’t ever wear it again, either, which was the worst part. She wouldn’t have anywhere  _ to  _ wear it - not unless Fallon began to make a habit of parading her around functions like the one they were attending that weekend. If the weekend went well, maybe it would bend the odds in Kirby’s favour for the future - but Fallon’s obvious reprehension about the entire thing was starting to rub off on Kirby, and even she was excited for the weekend to be over and done with, now.

Glancing around the closet to make sure that she wasn’t missing anything important in her tiny overnight bag that was tucked under the foot of the bed, Kirby shimmied back out of the dress - it fit perfectly, Fallon was in luck - and wandered half-nude back towards the bed.

The bag itself matched Fallon’s - a sleek black soft-leather duffel with small, copper lettering near the lip of the zipper -  _ Anders. _

Like the dress, it had been a gift - a  _ just because  _ gift. Reaching for her abandoned sweatshirt that she’d thrown onto the floor beside the bed the night before, Kirby paused in her tracks and looked around the room thoughtfully.

The house had been a gift, too, technically speaking. While money was rarely a conversation between the two women, Kirby was confident on leaving her information attached to the bills, the renovations - she always picked up the tab when they went out, or when they found themselves wandering through displays at  _ West Elm  _ for the hundredth time. Still, like she’d told Kate the last time she’d seen her - it  _ was  _ Fallon’s name on the deed. Fallon had listened to all of Kirby’s listed amenities that she wanted - the pool, the upgraded kitchen, the statement-piece chandeliers and sinks and sunroofed rooms - and had just… gone along with it. Of course, the brunette had her own long list of demands, but that hadn’t ever been an issue since Fallon was the one who chose all of the open houses and set up the walkthroughs. 

The media had very few glimpses of Kirby and Fallon’s relationship, that was the way that Fallon had personally insisted on keeping it, after all, but only now was Kirby beginning to realize just how backward so many people seemed to have it. Even her own fans seemed to be under the impression that it was ‘ _ Kirby and her nobody significant other’,  _ not the much more accurate ‘ _ Fallon and her trophy wife, oh, how cute, she’s an  _ actress _ ’. _

The realization made her chest cramp up, and the redhead quickly pulled open the drawer on the end table on her side of the bed, pulling out the stack of worn and stained scripts she had been sent over her work break, and grabbing the pill bottle stowed safely beneath them. 

Pausing and listening carefully for the sounds of Fallon returning upstairs, Kirby waited until she was sure she had already left for the office, then upended the bottle in her hand to shake a few of the remaining pills out. Taking two without giving herself any time to hesitate, or overthink, she quickly stashed the bottle back in its hiding spot and pulled the sweatshirt over her head.

She still had some loose ends to tie up before they took off the next morning, and a pre-travel to-do list sounded like the perfect distraction from her own unnecessarily loud and anxious thoughts until Fallon returned that evening.

* * *

Pressing her lips to Fallon’s shoulder, and then rearing back at the sudden influx of faux fur in her mouth, Kirby spluttered indignantly for a moment, eyes flying open and looking for an explanation. The answer was that she was  _ not  _ snuggling up to her girlfriend in their bed, but rather a furry throw pillow that Fallon had clearly replaced herself with in order to sneak out of the bed unnoticed. 

Alert, and jumpy, Kirby sat upright in the bed when she heard the telltale sound that had woken her up in the first place - Fallon rattling a bottle of pills in the bathroom. 

Rolling over and sliding the drawer next to her open, Kirby shoved a stack of papers aside and sighed a breath of relief when her fingers collided with the bottle of her own pills, exactly where she had left them.

Closing the drawer closed again quickly as Fallon appeared in the doorway to the ensuite, Kirby cleared her throat and forced what she hoped was a convincing ‘just woke up’ half-smile.

“Morning.”

“Did you just wake up?” Fallon asked, “I thought that pillow trick was going to work for sure. You were practically drooling.”

“I don’t drool,” Kirby huffed, approaching Fallon and then sidestepping her to head into the bathroom and brush her teeth. “ _ Or  _ snore. Those are both you.”

Loading up with toothpaste and getting to work on brushing before Fallon could protest, Kirby stretched one leg out and gently began to kick the door shut between the two of them.

_ “Hey!”  _ Fallon pushed the door back open, poking her head around it. “I wasn’t done in here. I need to shower?”

“I’m not stopping you,” Kirby replied thickly, dipping her head towards the sink to avoid spraying both the other woman and the mirror with toothpaste.

Wincing in disgust, Fallon pushed Kirby softly aside to make her way in, setting her pill bottle casually on the counter beside her.

“Don’t let me forget those,” she insisted, wandering over to the chest of drawers pressed against the opposite wall, and pulling out a fresh towel. “I know that you know where pills are at any given time.”

Kirby’s eyes locked on the pill bottle in front of her for a moment as she rinsed, then darted up to look at Fallon through the reflection in the mirror.

“What did you say?”

Fallon glanced up innocently from where she was in the process of unbuttoning her pajama top.

“Hm?”

Kirby set her jaw.

“What did you just say, just now?”

“That… I know that  _ you _ know that without those,” she nodded to the counter, “I’m going to have a hard time. On the plane?” Fallon stepped closer and frowned, reaching up and pressing the back of her hand to Kirby’s forehead gently. “You seriously don’t look so good. Are you sure about this weekend? It’s not too late to cancel, and I don’t want you getting sick right before you’re supposed to be back on set.”

“Fallon, please.” Brushing her hand away softly, Kirby held it lightly in one of her own, instead, and ignored the sudden clamminess of it. “I’m fine. What time do we have to be wheels up?”

Watching her in concern for another moment before deciding to let it go, Fallon turned away to continue undressing.

“We can leave in an hour - does that give you enough time? I can tell Cristal to shove it.”

Chuckling, Kirby shook her head.

“No, no. Don’t do that. I’ll be more than ready… though I guess I should look a little more presentable than usual if we’re going to be on a jet with your dad and stepmom for four hours.”

“Like I said,” Fallon repeated, “I will tell Cristal where to shove it. Just say the word.”

Taking both of Fallon’s hands a little more securely, now, Kirby leveled her gaze with her, and stared intensely into her eyes.

“That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” 

“Shut up.” Pulling her hands free and pulling off her top, Fallon tossed it in the general direction of the other woman’s face and then turned to step into the shower, pulling the door shut behind her and immediately being covered by the smart glass turning opaque. 

Smiling to herself as she finished washing her face and pulled her makeup bag out from under the sink, Kirby left it on the countertop to wander back into the bedroom and get dressed. 

The usual outfit of leggings and a comfortable - but cute, there was no telling what or who she would run into at the airport - shirt wasn’t going to fly, at least not this time. The idea that it would take a dress worth a car to upstage Fallon’s family meant that, at the very least, she’d have to retire her old pair of Uggs from her plane outfit wardrobe. 

She was still holding up two different cardigans in the closet mirror when she heard the water turn off, and wandered back into the bathroom to get Fallon’s expert opinion.

“Hey, what are  _ you  _ planning to wear for the plane, because I can’t - oh.”

Glancing back over her shoulder at Kirby, Fallon quirked an eyebrow surprisingly coyly and continued to lean in an arch over the countertop towards the mirror, applying lip balm with one finger - entirely naked.

“What did you say?”

“I, uh -” Feeling like she was short-circuiting, Kirby turned away and stared at the ceiling, instead. “I asked what sweater you liked.”

“The pink,” Fallon replied.

“Cool, I’m just going to… I’m going to go put it on.”

Turning around quickly and bumping into the doorframe on her way out, trying to blindly escape, Kirby got changed as quickly as possible and reminded herself over and over what a small amount of time that they had to get to the tarmac.

“Babe, you planning to put your face on, or…?”

Fallon’s voice floated out of the bathroom and Kirby winced to herself, trying to shake off her own jumpiness. She felt like an overly hormonal teenager - which the other woman was clearly counting on - and it was only serving to remind her of how incredibly long it had been. Not only had it been a long wait, but the wait had been broken up by a scattering of failed attempts at intimacy, all of which only seemed to be mounting the tension, at least for Kirby.

It was hard to get a read on Fallon, though. Some days she was like this - all blatant seduction and hands where they shouldn’t be in public, and then other days it was like she was entirely closed off - like she was living with Kirby as platonic roommates, barely even curling up against her when they fell asleep together. When she asked, it was just about work stress - at least that was what Fallon claimed - but Kirby couldn’t compartmentalize it.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll just be a minute!” Kirby called back, taking a calming breath before wandering back in and kissing Fallon on the cheek. “Is this your outfit?”

“Not unless you wanted to join the mile-high club,” Fallon hummed.

“With your dad on board? No, thank you,” Kirby’s words seemed to do the trick of properly killing whatever  _ mood _ Fallon was in, because she immediately made a mock-gagging gesture and turned around to face the actress instead.

“You’re absolutely sure I can’t convince you to get an Airbnb with me?”

“Steven insisted on having everyone together,” Kirby reminded her. “This weekend is about him.”

“I know it is,” Fallon huffed. “That’s why we’re  _ going  _ instead of staying here and enjoying our weekend off, just the two of us.”

She played with the front of the cardigan - the pink one, Kirby had put it on at her request - and fixed the redhead with a surprisingly convincing pout.

“Oh, please don’t make that face.” Kirby laughed softly. “I’ll be forced to take drastic measures to deal with it, and you just did your hair, and it looks  _ so  _ pretty.”

Fallon’s pout cracked into a tiny smile in spite of her obvious intent to keep it in place, and then she let out a quiet, defeated growl of frustration.

“Fine, you win. I’m going to go call Blake and make sure we’re good to go.”

“I’ll be down in a bit,” Kirby assured her, kissing her temple before stepping aside to make room for her to leave. She watched as she went, not being able to resist reaching out and slapping her ass as she did, catching the back of her thigh and sending a loud theatrical  _ SMACK  _ sound echoing off the tiles of the bathroom. Yelping indignantly, Fallon jumped and whirled around, but Kirby held both hands up in defence and backed away.

“I have to get ready, don’t distract me!” 

Glaring at her but heeding her plea, Fallon shook her head and vanished around the corner of the doorframe.

* * *

Kirby hadn’t been on the Carrington PR jet since she’d first started working with them, years prior. She was surprised by the new paint job - the company name had changed to add the ‘ _ And Talent’  _ bit, but the jet was so huge that it didn’t make much of a difference to add all of the additional verbiage. 

“I need a cocktail,” Fallon complained as their car pulled up smoothly on the tarmac and came to a halt.

Her medication had the side effect of making her tired - but it was welcome when they needed to get the publicist comfortably onto a plane.

“Whatever you want,” Kirby promised, reaching over to squeeze her hand reassuringly. It was nice having the chance to look out for Fallon, sometimes. It may not have totally balanced the scales, but it did make her feel a little more put-together.

Fallon’s door was opened, and she turned to slip out of the car and into the uncharacteristically cool morning air. Kirby followed, tightening the cardigan around herself and watching as their driver pulled their bags from the trunk.

“Is your dad here, alright?”

“If I know him,” Fallon sniffed, “He’s already on-board, three cocktails in, with Cristal wrapped around him like some kind of weird… receptionist slash exotic dancer.”

Exhaling sharply, a dismissive not-laugh at her comment, Kirby took both bags from the driver.

“I can actually take these up, thank you.” Kirby turned her attention to Fallon, instead, as she pulled her sunglasses from her hair and put them on. “Any last-minute important tips?”

“Uh,” Fallon pursed her lips, the pair of them wandering towards the entrance staircase of the plane. “Let him do the name dropping, remember you’re here as my date but you’re still his client, and don’t let Cristal ask you too many personal questions. She knows enough.”

“Got it.”

“Shit, I have to take this.” Pulling away from her and tugging her phone from her bag, Fallon picked it up quickly and her entire sleepy, cranky demeanour changed. “Hey! How are you? No, no, I have a minute.”

Sighing softly, Kirby shifted her weight onto one foot, letting both bags dangle at the length of her arms, deadweight. Fallon didn’t seem to have a care in the world, chatting away and occasionally pausing to bring her phone down to eye level and make a note on the screen before continuing.

“Fallon,” Kirby finally interrupted, “We have to go.”

“ _ One second _ ,” Fallon lowered the phone and turned to Kirby, gesturing to the plane. “Go get comfortable. I’ll be up in a moment.”

Kirby hesitated, glancing between the plane entrance and her girlfriend for a long moment before heading over and handing the bags to the attendant as she started up the long case of steep metal stairs.

The air inside was warmer, and Kirby felt like the air had softened. It had been a while since she’d traveled - for work or otherwise - and she’d forgotten how artificial the oxygen felt inside of an airplane, no matter how luxurious the craft was.

“You made it! I was about to call you,” Cristal materialized before Kirby could even properly get her bearings, approaching her from across the aisle.

“We got a little held up - Fallon’s just… on the phone.” Gesturing weakly behind herself, Kirby glanced back at the still-open door of the plane and then turned to Cristal again, hoping her expression conveyed enough apologeticism. 

“That sounds about right.” Blake’s voice startled Kirby from behind Cristal, and he leaned over on the couch he was seated on to see her better. 

“There’s a reason why we aren’t flying out tomorrow on the actual day-of,” Cristal added.

“Right,” Blake continued. “We wouldn’t want to be late.”

Cristal sidestepped around Kirby to peer out of one of the windows, down onto the tarmac, and the actress was hit with the realization that Blake wasn’t chiding Fallon for putting business first - he was simply explaining that it was what had to be done. 

Kirby had to admit that she’d been curious about him. Cristal was a little more hands-on within the actual office space, and the few times that Kirby had spoken with her had been enough to get a decent read on her. Blake, however, Kirby had only heard about in others’ whispers - or Fallon’s offhanded complaints or praises. Cristal was a new addition to the family, though, whereas Blake had built it. It was easy to see where Fallon got her no-nonsense traits, from hearing only a few words from the man, but it was still a little jarring. He was visibly rough-edged and worn, despite his polite outside demeanour. It was a wonder that Steven had come from someone like this - or even Fallon, on a good day. Kirby watched as Cristal settled back into her seat next to Blake and patted his knee, and wondered what it was that the other woman, all softness and smiles, saw in him specifically.

“Anything to drink, miss?”

Glancing up at the stewardess that had approached, Kirby felt a cool sweat forming on the back of her neck. Was it too early to order herself a drink? What would Cristal think? Blake? She always looked forward to the mimosas on the company jet - squeezed-day-of orange juice with a hint of fresh mint grown specially on the Carrington’s beachside Washington estate, and not to mention the champagne that was too fine to be kept on any other plane that Kirby had ever been on. 

Taking the plunge, Kirby straightened her posture, and replied, “A mimosa, for her,” she shrugged towards the window behind her. “Make it two, I’ll join her.”

There. Now it was  _ Fallon’s  _ idea.

Did her dad know that she was a morning drinker?

Shifting her feet back and forth uncomfortably on the floor in front of her, Kirby pulled the sleeves of her cardigan over the palms of her hands and frowned. It was an incredibly nice cardigan - Fallon had bought it for her in a small indie label pop-up shop on one of their first dates, when she’d dressed too coolly for the weather and spent the walk from dinner to drinks complaining about being too cold - now it felt cheap, and overworn among company like  _ Louis Vuitton  _ and  _ Givenchy. _

“Make it four,” Blake insisted. 

Breathing a little sigh of relief, Kirby looked up and smiled weakly, letting go of her sleeves and trying to shake off the urge to do any other nervous gesture.

“You must be looking forward to a weekend off,” Cristal supplied, moving the conversation along smoothly as if picking up on Kirby’s squirminess. 

“I’ll be honest, I’ve had enough weekends off to last a lifetime,” Kirby replied, “I’m excited to start working again.”

“Germany is a big change,” Cristal replied, taking the drink that was handed to her, and leaning back against the back of the couch. “Fallon said she wasn’t going with you - do you travel alone often?”

Not entirely prepared for a sudden interview of personal questions, Kirby sipped her own drink the moment it was in her hand, stalling briefly.

“I don’t travel much at all if it isn’t for work,” she admitted, once she’d regained some composure. “There hasn’t been much time, to be honest.”

Before there was a chance for Cristal - or Blake - to point out that she’d just mentioned having ‘enough weekends off for a lifetime’, Fallon entered, pulling her sunglasses off and clearing her throat.

“That for me?”

She nodded to the drink on the seat next to Kirby, and the redhead nodded quickly.

“I think Will wants to pull out of that documentary voiceover - I don’t know what Kori did to get in his ear but I seriously wonder why that girl is allergic to money, some days.”

It took Kirby a moment to realize that Fallon was talking to Blake, not Kirby, but even then, it was Cristal who responded.

“Fallon, we’ve been over this - Will is  _ Kori’s  _ client, not yours.”

“I  _ know  _ that,” Fallon hissed back with a surprising amount of venom for only three words. “I’m just  _ saying  _ she’s an  _ idiot.  _ You should keep her on a tighter leash, that’s your job, isn’t it?”

“My job is overseeing client satisfaction - Will seemed fine to me when I last ran into him, that bodes well for  _ you,  _ Fallon. Kirby, how are  _ you  _ feeling, lately?”

Kirby glanced up from where she had begun to pretend to look through her phone, but Fallon shook her head, and cut her off.

“That’s not funny, don’t do that.”

Cristal’s tone was smug, and mocking, but Fallon’s had grown immediately cold.

Blake said nothing, only rolling his eyes into his drink before catching Kirby’s eye and sitting up a little straighter.

“If you think the project is a good idea, tell him.”

“You think I should work against Kori?” Fallon asked reproachfully. 

“That’s… not… what I said,” Blake sighed. “Your job is his image - he should trust you as a confidant.”

Fallon rolled the information around for a moment, sipping her drink again in thought.

“I can do that,” she finally agreed.

“If Will is stressing you out, we can always move him to someone else - even temporarily.” Cristal sounded genuine, but Fallon didn’t seem to take it that way.

“No, I think I can handle one well-behaved established actor, a people-pleasing does-what-I-ask newcomer, and  _ her,”  _ Fallon jutted one thumb in Kirby’s direction, and she felt her cheeks turn hot.

“I should take this,” Kirby held up her entirely silent phone for a moment and was only mildly weirded out by all three Carringtons dismissively waving their hands at once. Turning and heading towards the bedroom, she slid the pocket door open and stepped inside, closing it tightly behind her.

Making a mental note to not ask Fallon any more questions about Cristal - at least not in the near future - she breathed a sigh of relief and leaned against the door. 

She could hear Fallon raise her voice, followed by Blake following suit, and then pressed her ear to the thin door to try to get a better grasp on what they were saying. She knew it wasn’t right, but her curiosity got the best of her and she found herself closing her eyes to try to focus on piecing together the conversation outside.

_ “Oh, stop. You haven’t had a win under your belt in almost two years, don’t act like you’re untouchable.” _

_ “Blake.” _

Blake’s voice followed by Cristal’s much sharper tone made Kirby feel like she’d suddenly caught a chill. Not giving herself any time to think, she quickly slid the door back open and opened her mouth to speak.

All three of them looked over at her, and just as Fallon started to shake her head ‘no’ in warning, Blake’s entire demeanour changed, and his face softened.

“Wrong number?”

“Yeah - I - Fallon, can I talk to you for a second? It’s about Germany.”

The tense expression was wiped from the other woman’s face and replaced with alert concern.

“Of course. Excuse me,” Fallon stood up from her seat and wandered over to Kirby, who simply gestured to her to head into the bedroom behind her. Closing the door once they were both inside, Kirby smiled reassuringly.

“I thought maybe you’d want to stay in here with me until we absolutely  _ have  _ to go strap in for takeoff.”

Fallon looked like she was going to protest, but then sunk into the end of the bed and sighed quietly.

“Thank you. I don’t really want to-”

“-Talk about it, I know,” Kirby supplied for her, making her way over and sitting down beside her gently. “That’s okay. We can just sit.”

“Thank you,” Fallon repeated, a little heavier, this time.

Kirby reached over and grasped one of her hands, pulling it into her own lap and running her thumb over her knuckles. 

Outside were the sounds of Blake talking in muffled tones to one of the attendants, and then laughing as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Suddenly startled by the sound of knuckles wrapping gently against the door, Kirby glanced up and cleared her throat.

“About five minutes until takeoff, ladies.”

Cristal’s voice was a welcome bit of warmth for Kirby, but she felt Fallon go angrily tense at the sound of it beside her.

“Thank you!” Kirby called back, waiting a beat before pressing her lips to Fallon’s cheek and then pulling her to rest her head against her shoulder.


	15. Chapter 15

The flight itself was awkward but manageable, and once in the air, another stream of business calls kept Fallon busy while Kirby slept on the couch beside her. She suspected that the actress was faking it to avoid having to talk to Blake and Cristal alone, but didn't test her theory, and let her get away with it. After all, she would have wanted to be extended the same courtesy.

Neither of them could escape the uncomfortable ride from the airspace to the manor, though, and between Cristal’s prodding with personal questions, and Blake’s occasionally answering his phone to bark orders into it, Fallon hardly had time to enjoy the sight of Kirby, sparkly-eyed, pressed against the car window to look at the fields and orchards that lined the private lake down the hill from the estate itself.

“This place is incredible,” Kirby finally spoke.

“Thank you,” Blake replied before Fallon could, “It’s been in our family for a long time.”

Before Kirby could ask just how long - and it was obvious from her face that she wanted to - Fallon reached over and took her hand, pulling her attention to the window next to herself, instead. Leaning over Fallon a little to peer out the window, Kirby’s eyes widened as she took in the sight of dozens of trees creating a privacy veil as the car drew around the lake, parting just long enough for the actress to catch sight of the massive manor itself in the distance. 

“Peaches?” she asked.

“Elbertas,” Fallon clarified, turning to face her for a moment with a tiny, hopeful smile. “Steven thought he wanted to be a mixologist for about a week when we were younger, and those,” she nodded out the window, “make some of the best bellinis you’ll ever have.”

She wasn’t sure it was sharing for Kirby’s sake, or Cristal’s, having felt the judging eyes of her stepmother diagonally across from her in the car on her since they stepped off the plane, but the actress seemed to soak it up like a plant in sunlight, squeezing her hand subtly as if to thank her for sharing the tiniest sliver of her past.

As the car slid past the last row of trees, Fallon took note of how many more cars were parked along the sides of the long stone path leading towards the manor’s entrance, and sighed softly under her breath. Of course they’d kick the wedding weekend off with an event - it would have been foolish for her to think otherwise - but she’d been hoping that she could have at least an hour or two to herself to rest and freshen up before being subjected, and subjecting Kirby to, the elbow rubbing and schmoozing that a Carrington event like this was going to entail. Their own car passed the others that were parked and pulled directly up to the front doors, coming to a smooth stop. After a beat, the door closest to Fallon was opened, but before she could move, Blake stepped out and reached back in to help Cristal exit, first. Rolling her eyes and slumping back against her own seat - and Kirby - for just a moment, Fallon shot her girlfriend one last silent, apologetic look, and followed Cristal out.

Not having much time to properly absorb the look of awe on Kirby’s face at the towering doors in front of them, Fallon took her hand as confidently as she could and followed in Blake and Cristal’s footsteps, heading in.

With a wave of relief, Fallon practically collapsed into Steven as he greeted them at the door, pulling them both aside before tightening his arms around her in a long overdue hug.

“She here, yet?” Fallon asked, glancing around as they broke apart before pulling Kirby a little closer to her side. 

“Not yet - she said she’s on the way, though.” Steven turned away to pull Kirby into a hug, next, and Fallon could tell without touching her how tense she was. It was overwhelmingly busy in the manor - especially for a first experience with it. Distant family and friends and business colleagues were scattered everywhere just past the front entrance, and the sound of everyone’s voices was an excited and constant roar. 

“There you are!” Sam suddenly appeared, the champagne in his glass coming dangerously close to sloshing on the floor as he breathlessly slung an arm around Fallon’s shoulder. Wincing away from him as subtly as she could, she gently shucked him back onto Steven’s shoulder, instead. 

“Drunk already?” Fallon asked.

“No, just a lot more out of shape than I thought - you guys should come dance!”

Glancing around, Fallon cleared her throat and then shook her head. The fusion of a dance area being cleared in the middle of the visible living room and the stuffier mingling that Steven’s half of the invite-list was doing was so very  _ them  _ that Fallon couldn’t help but feel a little endeared, despite her overall stress.

“Fallon has introductions to do, first,” Steven insisted, seeming to pick up on her trepidation. “Everyone wants to meet you.”

Steven spoke to Kirby, instead, smiling warmly. The way that he obviously didn’t care that Kirby’s entrance had caused a couple of murmurs across the room despite it being a mixer for his own wedding weekend made Fallon want to hug him again.

“One lap, and then I’m coming to find you again,” Fallon insisted, before taking Kirby’s hand again and turning to face her, instead. “Lets go change.”

* * *

Fallon could feel Kirby’s urge to ask questions as they entered what had once been her bedroom - and that was the exact reason that she hurried to open her bag for her, which had been placed on the chaise at the end of her bed.

“Wear this one,” she insisted, digging through Kirby’s things before holding out one of the dresses that she’d packed. It was the only piece that didn’t require a garment bag - so slinky and silky that it was practically liquid in the woman’s hands.

“Are you sure?” Kirby asked, tearing her eyes away from the wall she was nearest to, clearly trying her best to not pique her own curiosity and start exploring. 

“Yes,” Fallon sighed, trying to keep the tenseness out of her own voice. She could tell that Kirby was already nervous, and didn’t want to add to it. “I’m going to wear the matching shoes. We’ll coordinate - no one will know we just got off a plane.”

Seeming to relax a little in response to Fallon’s confidence, just like she’d been banking on, Kirby reached out for the dress and then began to kick her pants into a pool at her feet.

“Sam seems like a lot of energy,” she tried, shooting Fallon an uneasy but hopeful half-smile as she pulled her cardigan off, next.

“He’s harmless,” Fallon sighed, trying to return the expression despite how tired she already felt. She wanted to sink onto the edge of her bed to change her shoes but knew that she wouldn’t be able to force herself to get back up, and opted for gently grabbing the redhead’s shoulder for balance as she stepped into her new heels, instead.

“I meant a  _ good  _ lot,” Kirby promised, steadying Fallon by the waist before looking at her a little more seriously. “Should we have an escape-codeword?”

“It’s cute that you think we get to escape,” Fallon warned. “Lucky for you, the wicked witch of the manor isn’t here, yet, so maybe if we get this lap done quickly, we can call it a day before she does come flying in on her broomstick.”

Chuckling quietly, Kirby shook her head and then let the publicist go, pulling her own dress on and tugging it carefully into place. Even visibly sleepy from the plane ride, she looked pretty - if Fallon didn’t get to be the one looking at her all of the time, she’d have been more jealous of the effortlessness that the other woman exuded when it came to her appearance. 

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

* * *

Luckily for both Fallon and Kirby, many of the guests milling around that they were forced to talk with either didn't care who Kirby was, or that she was there - or they felt that pretending not to was important enough to fake it. Despite that, though, Kirby was still growing visibly overwhelmed. 

She seemed very ‘on’, which Fallon wasn't surprised by — much of her job involved exactly this sort of thing — but as the actress squirmed on the spot beside her as each person asked Fallon personal questions, she realized it was the context, not the activity. Glancing around the room for a friendly face, Fallon spotted Sam slinking around the door of the cellar and vanishing into it, then decided to give her girlfriend a break.

Leading Kirby as subtly as she could towards the direction of the cellar door, Fallon reached out to hold her hand and squeeze it hintingly.

“Where are we going?”

“I just realized we might not have time for the whole tour, I want to show you something.” Fallon slid the door open, then looked up to see Kirby beadily watching Cristal and Blake, distracted down the hallway.

“Let's just go back,” Kirby insisted nervously. “We’re here all weekend.” 

“Yeah, exactly, we only have the weekend.” Pulling Kirby along, Fallon paused on the stairs and closed the door behind her, throwing the two of them into dim lighting and wonderful, breathable silence.

“What is it?” Kirby asked, her voice soft.

Fallon stared up at her, the conflicting emotions of uncomfortable nostalgia from being back in the manor, and the overwhelming affectionate urge to comfort her girlfriend mixing together in her head and confusing her greatly.

“Nothing, it's just… weird having you here.”

Kirby opened her mouth to respond, looking almost offended, but a sound down at the bottom of the stone stairs stopped them both.

“What’s that?”

“The liquor stores, I can imagine. And Sam — I saw him sneak down here and thought maybe I could leave you two in the bomb shelter for a bit.” Fallon turned to start heading down the stairs, leading the way.

“Wait. An  _ actual  _ b-”

“No, not an actual bomb shelter,” Fallon answered, waving a hand dismissively. 

“But do you guys have an actual bomb shelter?” Kirby asked, following behind, descending the steep and imperfect steps that Fallon’s own body had memorized from years prior, her stride adjusting itself to keep her steady.

Ignoring the question, Fallon rounded the corner of the wine storage room, nudged the already-open door further open, and stepped inside.

“Ah!” Sam whirled around at the sound of her heels, clutching a bottle of wine in one hand, and a half-full glass in the other. “Oh, it’s you. I thought you were Blake.”

Snorting, Fallon stepped further in, and reached out to gently pull the bottle from the man’s hand.

“In  _ Louboutins _ ?”

“I was a little in my own head,” Sam admitted, his gaze flicking from Fallon’s face to over her shoulder, settling on Kirby, instead. “What’re you guys doing down here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Fallon pointed out. She inventoried the small plate of hors d’oeuvres on the ledge by the open bottle cabinet, and then looked at the other man suspiciously. “Are you hiding?”

“No!” Sam’s eyes widened. “I’m just… taking a breather.  _ You  _ just got here - I’ve been at it all morning.”

He sipped from his wine glass, then offered the glass to Kirby, who reached around Fallon’s shoulder to take it. 

Fallon watched her for a moment, and then smiled reassuringly.

“Maybe Kirby can keep you company, for a bit.”

Raising her eyebrows and turning to face Fallon, Kirby blindly handed the wine glass back to Sam and swallowed hard before replying.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you alone up there.”

“I’ll be fine. I sort of wanted to talk to Steven, anyway.” Fallon squeezed her arm, once, and then leaned over to kiss her cheek. “You two can get to know each other.”

She pulled away and searched Kirby’s face for a sign that she had fully misread the situation, and the actress did  _ not  _ want to be left out of sight with Sam, but the actress only smiled back, visibly relieved, and Fallon felt confident in the decision.

“I’ll come get you in a little bit.”

“Alright.”

“Bring more of these crab cakes when you come back,” Sam insisted, ignoring the way Fallon rolled her eyes at him before she headed out of the cellar and back up the steps.

Finding Steven was a difficult task when it was also paired with trying to avoid every conversation that Fallon was nearly pulled into. If she wasn’t being stopped and asked about the upcoming awards season, or how things were out west, or if she could help so-and-so’s  _ super talented  _ niece or nephew with just one little thing -

She was almost exhausted by the time she found the groom-to-be in question and dragged him away from some old college friends, and offered him a glass of scotch to replace the champagne in his hand.

“Hey… where’s Kirby?”

“I pawned her off on Sam - I think they both needed a minute.”

Glancing around as if he were going to find them nearby, Steven sipped from his tumbler and winced at the sickly, syrupy liquor.

“Lets go outside and get some air,” Fallon suggested, spotting Cristal from across the room. The other woman seemed to perk up, and moved as if getting ready to come towards them, so Fallon linked her elbow with Steven’s and steered him towards the kitchen. 

“How was the flight?” Steven asked, dutifully following her.

“Ugh,” Fallon rolled her eyes, even though he wasn’t looking. “Let's talk about something else.”

“That good, huh?” Steven hummed, as the pair of them slipped out of the kitchen and into the backyard through the raised-deck double doors. “And Kirby?”

“What about Kirby?” Fallon asked, heading towards the railing that overlooked the yard. 

“... How was she on the flight in? I know how dad can be, cooped up like that.”

Chuckling humorlessly, Fallon shook her head.

“He was his usual charming self.” Not giving her brother a chance to question her tone, she turned around fully and leaned against the railing, looking up at him almost pleadingly, like she was simply willing him to change the subject.

Catching her gaze, Steven opened his mouth and closed it, then smiled reassuringly.

“Well, I’m glad you two survived. This weekend’ll be good.”

“So you keep saying.”

“That’s very reassuring, thank you,” Steven chuckled. “Definitely helping my nerves.”

“Oh, no,” Fallon backtracked, reaching for his free hand with her own and giving it a small squeeze before dropping it again. “I didn’t mean - it  _ will  _ be great.”

“Thank you,” Steven repeated, turning to lean next to her and stare out at the lawn before them. “Is she holding up alright, though?”

Fallon didn’t need him to clarify, this time, and turned so they were both facing the same way.

“She’s fine - public appearances aren’t exactly a new trick. It was just a lot to go straight from Blake and Cristal in a confined space to… this.”

“I moreso meant with everything else going on,” Steven replied, sipping his drink again before setting it aside on the railing.

“What do you mean?”

“C’mon, Fallon. I’m not the press. I know it’s been a hard year, for her - and you.”

Steven’s words made Fallon’s next protest die in her throat, and she sipped the last bit of her own scotch before answering.

“We’re handling it.”

“From a personal standpoint? Or a professional one?”

“Both,” she replied, not giving herself a moment to hesitate.

Mulling that answer over for a moment, Steven cocked his head to the side.

“You didn’t really answer my question, though. Is she alright?”

Sighing, Fallon turned to face him fully, waiting for him to do the same before answering.

“She’s fine. You’re focusing on the wrong thing, right now.”

Smiling almost sadly, Steven leaned closer and pressed his lips to her forehead before linking their arms together and taking the drink from her hand to set it next to his own abandoned tumbler. 

“Let's go find them. I could use more champagne to wash  _ that _ ,” he nodded to the glasses, “down, and I can’t believe you left  _ Sam  _ alone with  _ Kirby.  _ That sounds like a sitcom.”

Snorting, Fallon shook her head and followed her brother’s lead back into the house, and down to the cellar.

Swiping champagne glasses along the way, the pair made their way down the stone steps once again, and nudged the door to the wine storage open slowly, greeted by the sight of Kirby and Sam leaned in close, giggling over the tray of appetizers that Sam had brought down earlier. 

The concept of Kirby so easily insinuating herself into every familial relationship that Fallon had - first Jeff, then Steven, and now Sam - was a terrifying one, but when Fallon got to see her like this, comfortable and smiling and actually thriving socially, it was easy to momentarily put aside her own nervousness to make room for affection. 

“What’re you talking about?” Fallon asked, alerting both of them to she and Steven’s arrival.

“Nothing!” Kirby replied - a little too quickly - but the nervous, playful look on her face suggested that whatever it was was relatively harmless.

“Nothing?” Fallon repeated, stepping closer as Steven pulled up two more chairs for them.

“No!” Kirby insisted, giggling. Taking a quick glance at the bottle of champagne sitting on the table between them, Fallon reached for it and noted how much of it had been emptied in the time she’d been upstairs talking to Steven - and then filled her and his glasses with the remainder of it.

“We were talking about vacations,” Sam provided, sliding his chair closer to Steven’s as he sat, and kissing him briefly in greeting.

Before Fallon could press for details, Kirby turned to her, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully.

“What’s your dream vacation?”

“Easy,” Fallon replied, almost rolling her eyes. “Paris.”

“Don’t you guys have a place, there?” Sam asked, turning his attention from Steven to Fallon.

“It’s a family place,” Steven corrected. “And it’s nothing fancy -”

“Nope,” Kirby shook her head, popping the ‘p’ on the word. “Sorry, that’s against the rules. You can’t pick somewhere you’ve been.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Fallon huffed. “Going somewhere once doesn’t make it less of a dream vacation.”

“Pick somewhere else,” Kirby replied simply, reaching over and taking Fallon’s champagne glass and stealing a sip.

“No,” Fallon replied shortly, taking her glass back. Kirby reared back to fix her with a better look of bewilderment, and the brunette found herself winking in a gesture of playful reassurance before she could stop herself. “I don’t want to. I’m not playing.”

“It’s not a game, it’s a question,” Kirby replied.

“Questions don’t have rules - games do.”

“You’re being difficult!” Kirby laughed.

“Fallon?  _ No…”  _ Steven spoke next, causing Fallon to turn to him with a look of shock and betrayal. 

“Whose side are you on?”

  
_ “Kirby’s.”  _ Sam and Steven answered her in unison, causing the redhead to let out a soft, if not dramatic cry of victory.

“Alright,” Fallon stood up, barely keeping the smirk off of her face as she pushed her chair back from the table and stood up. “I can see where I’m not wanted. I’m going back upstairs.”

“Oh, come on!” Kirby crowed, reaching out and grabbing her hand before she could get too far. “Sit down, you can pick Paris.”

Fallon turned to her, and then watched all three of them at the table drop their smiles and look suddenly more serious.

“What?”

Glancing back over her shoulder, and then turning fully to the open door, Fallon stopped dead at the sight of Alexis, her mother, standing in the doorway. 

“I thought I’d find you two, at least, hiding down here.” Alexis greeted, stepping into the room and beginning to shrug off her too-warm-for-Atlanta coat. She had only addressed Sam and Steven, but Fallon felt as though cold water had been poured down the back of her dress.

“Mother.”

“Fallon,” Alexis replied shortly, stepping closer. “And this must be…”

She held one gloved hand out, and Fallon didn’t need to turn and look to know that Kirby scrambled to take it, just out of her eyeline.

“This is Kirby, obviously,” Fallon answered for her.

“Is it obvious?” Alexis asked, as Fallon finally turned to face them. “I have to admit I don’t see many movies, these days. It’s so hard to keep up - I guess no one out west ever figured out that quality matters much more than quantity.”

She watched Kirby’s jaw go slack, but in the actress’s defence, she didn’t lose her composure even for a moment.

“Ah yes,” Fallon hummed. “That low-quality, Oscar-nominated filmmaking.”

“Like I said,” Alexis replied smoothly, letting go of Kirby’s hand and then dusting invisible lint from her shoulder, “I prefer the classics. Could I borrow Steven, for a moment?”

Turning to face the table, now, Alexis smiled brightly, and Fallon had to dig her fingernails into her palms to keep from snapping.

“Of course.” Either not wanting to cause any more friction, or maybe just trying to helpfully take Alexis away from Kirby - and Fallon - Steven stood up from his own seat and gestured to the door, following his mother out with one last apologetic glance at the three of them that remained.

“Wow.” 

Sam’s voice brought Fallon’s attention away from where it was still focused on the now-empty doorway, and she turned worriedly to Kirby, instead.

“That would have been funny if I wasn’t on the receiving end,” Kirby quipped, forcing a small ‘don’t worry about it’ smile when she seemed to catch Fallon’s concerned aura. “She always like that?”

“Yes,” Sam and Fallon answered in unison.

Whistling lowly, Kirby reached for the remaining champagne glasses, tucking the stems between her fingers to hold them all at once, and slid past Fallon for the door.

“How about I take these back and get us something stronger?”

“I can help,” Fallon offered, but Kirby stopped her in her tracks by turning around to face her and shake her head.

“No, I - I want a second. Thank you, though.”

Dejectedly slumping into Steven’s now-vacant seat, Fallon turned to Sam and then pulled his plate closer to her.

“You know you two are going to be fine, right?” He asked, after a moment. 

Fallon lifted her gaze to his face, then dropped it back down to the plate.

“Kirby seems cool. And I’m pretty sure she mentioned you, like, fifty times in ten minutes, so, I doubt she’s going to go running back to Australia because your mom was  _ sort of _ rude to her.”

Fixing the man with a softened look, Fallon chewed on her lip and then exhaled heavily.

“Thank you, Sam.”

“Anytime.” Patting her almost too roughly on the shoulder, he stood up and started for the door. “And in the spirit of being such a good nearly-in-law, I’m going to let you have the rest of those.” He gestured to the plate. “I’ll go get more. Don’t go anywhere.”

“I can help,” Fallon insisted.

“Hey, Blake seemed annoyed  _ before  _ Alexis got here - if you want to subject yourself to that, be my guest.”

“Maybe you’re right,” she sighed, fiddling with the empty champagne bottle.

“I won’t be five minutes,” he promised, closing the door behind himself.

Taking the bottle and shaking the last couple of drops around in the bottom, Fallon sat up straighter in her seat, and upended the remainder directly into her mouth.


	16. Chapter 16

Kirby had sort of assumed that once she and Fallon were staying together in Carrington manor with nowhere else to go, she would stop waking up alone, but she’d been wrong. She’d been having the most disorienting dream - her senses dulled and her movements slow, like she was somehow conscious through a bout of blackout drunkenness, unable to grasp onto any sort of sobriety, and just when she’d been ready to give up and accept that she would be out of it forever, never coherent again, she woke up. One moment she was pleading with some higher power, or maybe just her own mind - ‘ _ I’ll never make myself feel like this again if I can stop feeling like this right now’ -  _ and in the next, she was alone, and sober, in Fallon’s bed, scrambling and reaching out for the woman that wasn’t there.

Once the brief disorientation from both the dream and the strange bedroom wore off, Kirby sat up and propped herself against the headboard, squinting at the sunlight that poured into the room through a small crack in the curtains nearest her. The room had looked a lot more inviting the night before, after several expensively mixed drinks, and with Fallon fawning all over her until they fell asleep. Even in her tipsy haze, she could tell that the publicist was trying to ensure that she wasn’t traumatized by the icy greeting she’d received while meeting Alexis, but she hadn’t had enough time to unpack her own feelings on the matter, yet. The brunette didn’t bring her mother up, not once, instead dancing around the subject and prodding at Kirby for distraction with questions about other aspects of their upcoming weekend. It was hard to inventory her thoughts with Fallon buzzing around her like a gnat - though she was pretty sure that that was Fallon’s exact intention; to distract her until she stopped caring about the incident entirely, and forgot. 

She hadn't drank enough the evening before to warrant a hangover, but a weak pain radiated up through her jaw and neck - probably due to her stress-habit of grinding her teeth in her sleep. Trying to massage away a little of the tension, Kirby stretched her legs and yawned before turning to slip out of the bed.

Fallon’s en suite was a dream come true, and as Kirby wandered in and flicked on the light, she momentarily forgot her earlier concerns. A slab of carved marble,  _ real _ marble, was mounted into the new-looking oak paneling of the wall, lining one entire side of the room. Burrowed into the marble itself was the ivory sink, with what were obviously true gold fixtures curving outward from the top of the bowl in a surprisingly old-fashioned design. The mix of new and old would have been a nice transition from their much more modern home back in Los Angeles, but the sheer size of the bathroom - at least twice as big as their shared en suite - was too staggering to be comfortable. 

Spotting a bent notecard propped up against the mirror, Kirby made her way in and picked it up. 

Fallon’s slanted, messy scrawl let her know that she’d left early to have a last-minute alteration on her own dress fixed and that Kirby should get breakfast without her when she was up. Snorting to herself in disbelief as she read, Kirby realized that Fallon had clearly already thought ahead of her reluctance to face the day - and family - alone.

_ Kirby, _

_ Getting last-minute alterations - make yourself comfortable and get some breakfast, it might be the last chance to eat for a while.  _

_ Steven and Sam should be downstairs when you read this - especially Sam. _

_ Love you, _

Whether it was because Kirby wasn’t going to figure out on her own who left the note, or just a love of writing her own name - with a dramatic flourish on the ‘F’, and the ‘N’ trailing down and then up, curving into a heart - Fallon had signed the card and even gone as far as to leave a still-glossy red kiss on the bottom corner. 

Pulling open the drawer to retrieve a spare toothbrush, and then tucking the note inside as well for safe-keeping, Kirby leaned against the countertop and studied her own tired reflection. It was hard to keep reminding herself that she entirely wasn’t out of place, standing here. 

The Carrington’s obviously had more money than god - Kirby had been slowly coming to the realization that they weren’t simply ‘rich’ - but she just wasn’t some grifter who was using Fallon for her wealth or some kind of lower-class clinger that had never seen a bathtub lined with opal before. 

Shaking off the thought and quickly brushing her teeth, Kirby returned to the bedroom to get dressed - and maybe climb back into bed to pretend that she hadn’t been hungry enough to follow Fallon’s instructions - when she spotted the shelf of photos and paused in her tracks.

The bedroom itself wasn’t particularly personal, but this particular display was. Making her way over and picking up the first frame that she saw, Kirby examined the photo it held and smiled despite her earlier nervousness. What had to be a very young Fallon and Steven sat with their backs to the camera, both seated at the piano and fully focused on the keys in front of them. Even from just a quarter of her profile, Kirby could see the look of sheer determination on Fallon’s face, contrasted against the much more relaxed and patient expression that Steven wore. 

The next photo made her laugh outright - Fallon and a woman that Kirby hadn’t met were leaning into each other, with streaks painted on their cheeks in what she had to assume were their school colors. Her other arm was slung around a younger version of Jeff - he was still perfectly recognizable despite the photo having to be at least ten years old. 

Setting both frames back where she found them, Kirby turned her attention to the jewelry rack hanging against the wall and ran a finger over the various delicate chains and pendants hanging there. She knew that Fallon kept her jewelry at home in much better protection, and the pieces she was looking at now were much more modest than most of the woman’s current collection - but they were hung with pride, on display for aesthetic more than function. They had to have been gifts.

It had been enough of a change to get to know the Fallon that she knew now, but picturing her as a girl who went to games and actually dated other people during her high school or college careers was hard for Kirby to wrap her head around. She wondered what it would have been like to meet Fallon back then, when they were teenagers, and what they would have thought of each other. She’d once thought, very early into her working relationship with Fallon, that she was the sort of type of girl Kirby had been constantly catching crushes on back when she was in school, and it was becoming increasingly obvious from the small pieces of the puzzle she was finding now that it was probably true.

Beside the jewelry was a modest trophy shelf - Kirby had to assume that the placement was intentional, as both the necklace rack and the wooden floating shelf housed trophies of different kinds - and Kirby dropped the chain she was holding back into its spot to lean in and squint at one of the plaques, instead.

_ Fallon Carrington _

_ 1st Place - 2009 Track and Field _

_ 100m Sprints _

Raising both eyebrows in surprise, Kirby moved onto the next trophy.

_ Fallon Carrington _

_ 1st Place - 2006 Equitation  _

A small handful of similar trophies continued the line until it reached the corner where the two walls intersected, and varied from equestrian sports, to business and young entrepreneurial achievement plaques, to recognitions of academic achievement. 

Fallon being an overachiever wasn’t a surprise - she still was, in their day to day life together - Kirby often saw it firsthand. Still, though, to be standing in the middle of a shrine to it felt odd. Everything was displayed so carefully, and yet none of it had apparently been deemed important enough to bring with her when she’d moved to Los Angeles.

Kirby had a mental note to ask Fallon to show her the stables before they left - and wondered if perhaps she would get a chance to goad the other woman into actually letting her watch her ride - before she was interrupted by her own growling stomach. Knowing she could no longer hold out on breakfast, she quickly finished dressing and pulled her hair up into a loose ponytail before heading downstairs.

She found the dining room without much issue, and spotted Sam sitting alone near the head of the table, much to her relief. The table itself was covered in the most mouth-watering spread that Kirby had seen in a long time, complete with an additional buffet and a mimosa station at the table pressed up along the opposite wall. It almost felt like she were staying in a five-star hotel, not the childhood home of her girlfriend, but she quickly made her way over to the wall to get acquainted with the various champagne choices.

“Morning,” she greeted, glancing back at Sam and only just then taking in his disheveled appearance.

“Morning,” he replied through a yawn. 

“Late night?” Kirby asked, smiling back at him before focusing on her task of mixing the champagne in with her orange juice.

“Definitely,” Sam replied, sounding tired but satisfied. “What time did you guys turn in?”

“Not too late,” Kirby made her way back over and sat across from him, swirling her drink around in its flute before sipping it experimentally. “Where’s Steven?”

“Not sure, probably making sure everything is perfect.”

“You don’t seem nervous.”

Sam chuckled at her comment, quirking an eyebrow.

“Well, I am.”

“I would be too,” she assured him. “But it’s going to be great. I’m sorry we didn’t get to spend more time together before all of this.”

Sam waved her off, sliding the nearest plate of fruit closer to her.

She politely declined, reaching instead for the elaborate-looking pyramid of pastries and grabbing one from the top.

“We have all the time in the world, after.”

Something about the promise of a future friendship - especially one so closely tied with Fallon’s family - made Kirby’s chest swell with happiness, and she found herself grinning into what she was discovering was a raspberry croissant as she took a bite.

“Oh, wow,” she sighed, pulling it back to stare at it as if it had just handed her the answers to life.

“I know,” Sam agreed, nodding and closing his eyes. “It’s almost unbelievable. How Steven was able to give up having this,” he gestured around, “Every morning? I’ll never understand.” 

Kirby thought about how eager Fallon had been to be away from her family, and alone, then shrugged as she finished another large bite.

“Gotta make your own way sometime, right?”

“If I must,” Sam sighed dramatically, causing her to laugh.

Popping the last bite of the croissant into her mouth, she stood up, slamming the rest of her mimosa as well.

“I’m going to see if I can find Fallon.”

“Oh,” Sam sat up straighter, gesturing after her as she headed towards the main hall. “Can you tell her that Alexis was looking for her? If she hasn’t already found her.”

“Sure,” Kirby lied, changing her path abruptly and heading for the stairs, instead. 

If Alexis was looking for Fallon as much as she was, it was probable that they’d cross paths, and the idea was less appealing than the alternative of hiding in the bedroom boredly and waiting for her girlfriend to return on her own time. Making up a mental list of excuses to give when the other woman finally did find her, camping out and hiding from her family, despite her unrelenting eagerness to meet said family, Kirby took the stairs two at a time and then hurried down the hall.


	17. Chapter 17

Kirby whined softly in her sleep and rolled away, curling up into a ball with her back to Fallon. Reaching out and brushing her fingers over her bare shoulder, frowning in concern, Fallon did her best not to startle her awake. The redhead only curled up tighter, though, so Fallon let her be and reached as quietly as possible for her phone.

Work calls flooded her ‘missed calls’ tab, along with a couple of emails from Jeff and one from Will. Just as she went to swipe open the latter, she noticed a much more rare contact name, and paused.

Her mother had phoned at some point just before she’d woken up - for a moment she wondered if something in her had been telepathically disturbed and caused her to wake up. She’d never told anyone, ever, but when she was still a teenager - the morning she’d woken up and Alexis wasn’t home - she’d gotten up right before her alarm, and she’d been on the wrong side of the bed. She never moved about in her sleep unless she was particularly stressed, and never fully from one side of the massive bed to the other, but some time that night she had. Not telling anyone about it, and not finding out until dinner that evening that Alexis was gone had stuck with her for a lot longer than she’d realized.

Now, she was on the wrong side of the bed, again, but it was intentional. She didn’t have the heart to say anything when Kirby had flung herself into the side of the bed closest to the window - that was how she slept in their bed at home, after all - but the bed was turned the opposite way in this room, and sleeping closest to the door on the wrong side of the bed was probably at least partially to blame for the fitful, shallow sleep that Fallon had just had.

She’d have to call Alexis back. Whatever she wanted was probably only going to get worse with age, and avoiding her - though tempting - was risky.

Slipping out of the bed as carefully as possible and gently tucking her pillow behind Kirby’s back, Fallon stepped into her slippers and shrugged her robe on, heading to the door. It was so early that the staff weren’t even whisking around, putting out newspapers or fresh towels near doors for the other guests and family in their wing, and Fallon said a quick prayer of thanks for the privacy before clicking Alexis’s name and bringing the phone up to her ear.

“Fallon! I didn’t think you’d call.”

“That seemed unwise.” Fallon crossed her arms and leaned against the frame of her closed bedroom door. Alexis didn’t answer the jab, moving on quickly.

“When you didn’t pick up, I assumed you were sleeping late. I’m sure that you’re on a much different schedule with your priorities on the west coast.”

“Well, it’s… three hours earlier in LA. But no, I’m up. I have some work to do before the rest of the world wakes up,” Fallon lied. “What did you need?”

“I thought maybe we could get coffee before the day starts. You know we won’t get much time to see each other before you jet back off to god knows where, so I thought we should take advantage of the time we  _ do _ have.”

Fallon rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to point out how much time they’d had for the majority of her life that the woman clearly didn’t care to ‘take advantage’ of, and cleared her throat.

“It’s a little early, and I don’t want to leave Kirby by herself with a bunch of strangers, actually, so -”

“I’m sure she can manage. Besides, we should talk.”

The words made Fallon shiver uncomfortably, but she was sure that that was her mother’s intention, so she shook the feeling of uneasiness off and straightened her posture as if physically trying to sound more confident.

“Sure.”

“I’m in my loft - do you need longer than say… ten minutes to look presentable?”

“For you?” Fallon asked incredulously.

“Oh, please, Fallon. I’m just your mother.”

She hung up without another word, clutching her phone tightly in her fist and gritting her teeth until the wave of anger had passed, then slipped back into the bedroom and checked to make sure Kirby was asleep. Whatever had been upsetting the redhead in her sleep earlier seemed to have passed, at least for the time being, as she was now sprawled out across the middle of the bed and resting soundly. Sliding into the closet to find something to wear, Fallon moved as quickly and quietly as possible, then headed back out the door.

The air was surprisingly chilly, and Fallon found herself wincing at the coldness of the dew on the lawn as she crossed the grass of the yard in her less-than-warm heels. Tightening the cardigan she wore around her waist a little, she sped up her steps and made her way to the loft, rapping on the door with a little more force than strictly necessary. Alexis made her wait - which was unsurprising - before Fallon could hear her shuffling around and then finally swinging the door open to let her in.

“Oh, I hadn’t realized how cold it was,” her mother lied, stepping aside as Fallon shuffled stiffly inside. 

The decor hadn’t changed much since Fallon had last been in Atlanta, but the paint looked fresh, and she recognized the flowers from the party the night before. 

“Please, sit.”

Gesturing to the massive dining table that took up the center of the main room, Alexis pulled out one of the more-expensive-than-they-looked reclaimed wood chairs and sunk into it carefully. Her movements were a little stiff - Fallon wondered if she’d had more work done, recently. 

“What did you want to talk about?” Fallon asked, remaining standing where she was. The loft was comfortably warm, especially compared to the chilly air outside, but she refused to let it lull her into a false sense of security. The atmosphere was complete with the scent of Alexis’s perfume in the air, a smell that was still inherently comforting despite how much Fallon tried to will herself to hate it. 

“I just wanted to check in with you,” Alexis replied, reaching back and grabbing one of the mugs on the nearest cart, and sliding it closer to the spot that she’d gestured for Fallon to take. 

“Well,” Fallon hummed, as she sat, “My company merged. It’s down-season right now, so I’m working with a few more of those… Hollywood elitist weirdos, that you pretend not to recognize the names of. I moved.”

Alexis slid the steaming French press closer and poured fresh coffee into Fallon’s empty mug.

“Moved where?”

Fallon breezed over the question.

“What do you really want?”

“Well, if I’m being honest, you were looking a little rough when I spoke to you yesterday.”

“We had just gotten off a plane, so -”

“No, you still do. You look tired.”

“You woke me up-” Fallon began to protest, but Alexis cut her off.

“ _ Tired- _ tired. Are you sure everything’s going alright? What about Kirby?”

“Oh no,” Fallon chuckled humorlessly, setting her mug down without taking a sip. “We aren’t doing that. I’m not talking about Kirby while she isn’t here, not outside of work - not with anyone, but especially not with you.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” she crowed back, sipping her own coffee. “This is the perfect time to talk, when it’s just the two of us. I’m sure that maintaining your relationship given all of the circumstances can’t be easy - it’s only reasonable that you would be exhausted.”

Fallon glared at her for a moment, grinding her jaw before replying, “Okay. I’ll bite.”

“We both know it isn’t exactly professional,” Alexis began. “I mean, I’m sure that’s why you both decided to settle into domesticity so quickly. It does look a lot more wholesome than casually dating a client.”

“That’s -” Fallon huffed, shaking her head. “That’s not what is going on. And you know that. This,” she gestured between them, “little mind game thing isn’t going to work. Not this time.”

“Fallon, there is no ‘mind-game thing.’” Alexis sat up straighter, and had the nerve to look concerned, if not hurt. “This came out of absolutely nowhere, and I know that you loving a challenge has negatively impacted your choice in relationships in the past. I don’t want you to be rushing into something with someone who can negatively impact your career.”

“So you  _ have  _ heard of her, then,” Fallon pointed out.

Making a small noise of frustration, Alexis took one more sip and then slid her half-full mug aside.

“I’m the last one to meet her. I needed to do a little preliminary research.”

Rolling her eyes, Fallon leaned back in her seat.

“Oh, woe is you. She hasn’t met anyone - not before this weekend, really. Just through work. Steven, I guess.” Fallon wasn’t entirely sure why she was sharing - but Alexis had always had a weird ability to pull the truth out of her without much effort. It was an annoying skill for a mother to have, but despite her efforts, Fallon rarely managed to get away with lying to her.

“Well, why is that?” Alexis asked. “Because you were embarrassed of us? Or of her?”

Standing up abruptly - not even realizing that she was doing it until she was on her feet - Fallon glowered at the woman across from her. Her mother barely blinked, though the corner of her lip twitched upward almost imperceptibly. She’d gotten a rise out of her; she’d won this round.

“I have to meet her, actually, for breakfast.”

“A shame you have to go. I’ll see you at the wedding, though. Or at least, the reception.”

“Goodbye.” Fallon replied shortly, pushing her chair in and leaving her now slightly cold abandoned coffee in its place. 

She managed to make it out the door without looking back, leaving it slightly ajar behind her if only to pettily make Alexis get up to close it herself, and then headed back outside. 

The cold seemed much more bitter after she had been so comfortable and acclimated to the warmth of Alexis’s studio. She thought of Kirby, probably still in bed, and braved the chilly air by imagining letting herself climb back into their warm bed and curling up next to her. She knew she wouldn’t be able to, deep down - it was time to start getting ready, anyway - but it was a nice thought to keep her from freezing as she finally stepped back into the main house.

Poking her head into the dining room, Fallon frowned when she didn’t see Steven, Sam, or Kirby, but grabbed a muffin off of the buffet tray regardless. Just as she was about to sneak back upstairs to find Kirby and get ready, she heard her name being called and froze in her tracks. 

_ “Fallon!”  _ Blake repeated, his voice floating into the foyer from the slightly ajar door to his home office.

She considered pretending not to hear him again, but gave up, knowing she’d been discovered, and made her way over to pull the door open.

“ _ What.” _

He glared at her for her tone, but chose not to say anything about it, instead moving right into business.

“I need you to call Jeff - he said he emailed you and you didn’t reply.”

“What, so now he’s narking me out  _ to my dad  _ when I don’t answer him quickly enough? That’s really professional.”

“What’s unprofessional is Jeff being on top of Kirby’s schedule while she’s enjoying her time off, here, and you enabling it.” Blake didn’t look up from the papers in front of himself, but his grip on his fountain pen visibly tightened in frustration.

“Somehow, I think my and Kirby’s  _ professionalism  _ is perfectly fine. What we need to do right now is get ready to watch Steven get married. I’ll email Jeff in a bit, and -”

“Do it now.”

“Oh, my god.” Fallon pressed a hand to her temple and sighed heavily. “Fine. Nothing has changed. He’s nitpicking intentionally, trying to undermine me, and you’re letting him, because it’s better than admitting that I know what I’m doing.”

“If you want to tell him how to do his job, become a manager. Become  _ Kirby’s  _ manager, for all I care. God knows that if you keep slipping up like this, you’ll have the free time. At least maybe then you’ll actually know what she’s signed on for.”

Fallon narrowed her eyes.

“What exactly is  _ that _ supposed to mean?”

Blake scoffed, finally looking up. “You think I’m going to let you sit around with two or three clients waiting for awards season when they’re not even bringing home wins these last few years? No. I don’t know how, but you’re losing your touch. This year is strike three, Fallon.”

“I haven’t missed a nomination.  _ Ever.”  _ Fallon could feel angry tears prickling up behind her eyes and immediately blinked them away. 

“And you haven’t won, either, not these last two seasons. Get the shooting schedule from Jeff. I want you booking press in Kirby’s downtime - she’s had enough time off.” Blake turned his attention back to his papers.

“Kirby didn’t even book the part,” Fallon snapped, just barely managing to keep the shakiness out of her voice. 

Blake chuckled, shaking his head and glancing up to give her a pitying look before going back to writing.

“You’re being unprofessional. You always used to be two steps ahead, and now it’s like you’re barely keeping your head above the water.” 

Fallon stared him down for another moment, then shook her head.

“I’m not leaving campaign work - not with my perfect record.” She crossed her arms and stood up to her full height. “If you want me to leave that badly, fine, but I have more potential than this, and I won’t be back when I find something better.”

“Fallon, you are not good enough at this job to think that you’re too good for this job.”

Blake didn’t even look up, that time, but his words felt like he’d gotten up and crossed the room to slap her across the face. She was winded, and suddenly ice cold.

“Did you need anything else?” He asked, when she didn’t move for a moment.

Not giving him the satisfaction of hearing the hurt in her voice, Fallon didn’t answer, and instead turned to go. 

She had a schedule to perfect, emails to answer, and a wedding to attend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The line 'You're not good enough at this job to be too good for this job' is spoken by Princess Carolyn to Diane Nguyen in season three, episode six of Bojack Horseman.


	18. Chapter 18

She hadn’t explicitly promised Fallon that she wouldn’t cry at the wedding, but Kirby still did her best not to, squeezing Fallon’s hand once or twice to resist the urge and blinking at the ceiling during the hand-written vows in order to preserve her makeup. 

She had expected Fallon to be at least a little tense - she’d expressed a personal boredom with weddings in general, but Kirby thought that things would be a little better considering that this was Steven’s. The added stress of having Kirby there, with her entire family, was a given, but Fallon seemed truly on edge. It wasn’t the time or place to ask about it, though, so Kirby set her concern aside for the time being and tried to focus on the celebration at hand. 

It was impossible not to picture her own wedding whenever she attended another one. Even when she was single, imagining what pieces to take aesthetic inspiration from, and which to try to improve on in her own future took up most of her time during the less ‘exciting’ moments of the whole thing. Watching Steven and Sam sign their license, Kirby wondered what Fallon’s dream wedding looked like, but knew that even without her current tenseness, she couldn’t ask. Fallon treated every question like it was loaded - what Kirby considered ‘getting to know her’, Fallon felt was an interrogation. Innocently asking her what sort of wedding she had dreamed up when she was a little girl would have the publicist up all hours of the night and jumping out of her skin every time Kirby stopped to tie her shoes. 

She  _ did  _ want to ask what had her so on edge, though. When she’d returned to their room after her alteration - sans dress - Kirby had known that something was up, but didn’t push it at the time. 

The brunette got up in a hurry once they were released to head back to the manor for the reception, and Kirby had to rush to keep up with her, ignoring the curious looks that her presence attracted. The wedding itself was a considerably younger crowd than the welcome drinks and appetizers had been, and Kirby caught more than one guest trying to take a subtle photo of her with their phone as she scurried by. She didn’t take Fallon’s hand until they were outside in the cool evening air, stopping her in her tracks and turning her to face her with a concerned smile.

“Where’s the fire?”

Fallon levelled her gaze on the taller woman and for a moment, she looked so stressed and vulnerable that Kirby thought she was about to spill her heart out. The moment passed, though, and Fallon moved to pull her along again.

“I don’t want to be the last one in and make a scene.”

“That… doesn’t sound like you,” Kirby pointed out.

“Yeah, well, I think you being here is -”

She stopped, seeming to realize just how hurtful the rest of her sentence was going to be, and glanced at Kirby again as their pace slowed.

“That isn’t what I meant. I just think we should -”

“No,” Kirby stopped her. “It’s fine. It’s okay, I get it. I don’t want to take any attention off of Sam and Steven, either.”

Fallon softened a little, then readjusted her grip on her hand, and led them up the drive towards the front doors of the manor.

They were early, and Kirby could see that Fallon visibly didn’t know what to do with herself. It was probably a new experience for her, walking into a party that wasn’t already in full swing, but the brunette held her head high and retrieved them each a flute of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. 

“How late did you want to stay?” She asked, watching as Kirby took a sip before trying her own.

“Huh? Oh, I… I don’t know. I’m not in a hurry to leave. Are you?”

Fallon was already staring longingly at the stairs that led to the upstairs bedrooms, but she turned her attention back to Kirby and shook her head. 

“Me? Hurrying? No… no, this is… great.”

Stepping aside as a few more guests funnelled in behind them, Kirby gently pulled Fallon by the elbow to stand closer to her and smiled politely as the others passed.

“You feeling okay?”

“This dress is sort of uncomfortable,” Fallon admitted. She tugged pointedly at the hem before giving Kirby a hopeful, pleading look. “I think I should change. Will you come with me?”

Chewing her lower lip, Kirby glanced around quickly - just to make sure that there was no sign of Alexis or anyone else that she was concerned about her reputation with - then sighed. The last thing she needed was to be caught sneaking off to Fallon’s bedroom with her in the middle of a social gathering, no matter how innocent the reason was.

“Fine. But let’s be quick.”

Leading the way, Fallon weaved around the small group of guests that had arrived and started up the stairs, letting go of Kirby’s hand to hold the railing instead while they walked single file. 

Fallon let her in first, following behind and shutting the door with a soft ‘click’ behind herself. It was immediately almost eerily quiet, but Fallon had crossed the room to the closet before Kirby could say something useless to fill the gap of silence. It was a habit of hers that Fallon used to complain about, though it was obvious that over the years her reaction to the nervous tic had been worn down into one of endearment, if she were in the right mood. Something about her stiltedness told Kirby that this was not one of those moods. 

Awkwardly shuffling in place for a moment, Kirby made her way over to one of the shelves she’d been looking at that morning, and got wrapped up in trying to figure out if she could spot Fallon in a crowd photo that seemed to be from high school when the brunette appeared behind her.

“Snooping?”

“Shit!” Kirby jumped on the spot, whirling around to the sight of her girlfriend looking considerably more relaxed - and comfortable, in a less constricting dress. “Are you ready?”

“What’s the rush?” Fallon hummed, reaching out to grab Kirby gently by the hips, stepping slowly closer to her. 

She could tell that it was an intentional distraction, and even though she felt weak and wanted nothing more than to curl up in the bed with Fallon and ignore the rest of the guests - and newlyweds - downstairs, she pushed past the temptation and instead wrapped her arms around her girlfriend’s waist and shoulder.

“What’re you -”

“Shh.” Loosening her grip only to press a tiny kiss to Fallon’s temple, Kirby pulled her back into the hug and held her still until she felt her start to untense. Fallon wasn’t much of a hugger - cuddling in bed or on the couch was acceptable. Holding hands was fine. Embracing to kiss was also acceptable - but something about a genuine gesture of nothing but concern was able to break her down relatively easily whenever she was trying to hold anything in. 

“What is this?” Fallon asked, her voice muffled from where her lips were pressed against the other woman’s shoulder.

“You seem stressed,” Kirby observed. “Just relax, for a minute.”

Fallon leaned into her a little, but Kirby couldn’t tell if she was accepting defeat, or just playing along.

“I’m okay. I just want to take a breather, get some of the good liquor, do the mingling thing, and then take these shoes off.”

Kirby chuckled, slowly letting her go.

“We can take a breather. A short one.” She nodded towards the bed and waited for Fallon to perch on the end of it before joining her. “Can I see the stables?” 

“What,” Fallon glanced over at her, quirking an eyebrow. “Right now?”

“No,” Kirby shook her head. “But before we go?”

Fallon rolled the thought around for a moment and then shrugged.

“Are you sure? It’s kind of boring. I didn’t know you were into horses.”

“I’m not,” Kirby replied easily. “But you are. Right?”

Her question made Fallon pause and she knew that she’d overstepped. Later on, she’d kick herself for feeling so nervous - this was her  _ girlfriend _ , she was allowed to know her, despite how much of a fight Fallon seemed to put up - but in the moment, she winced.

“Let’s just go back downstairs,” Kirby insisted, standing up abruptly and offering Fallon her hand. “I promise I’ll give you a massage later if your feet are still killing you.”

Taking the olive branch, though probably for her own sake more than Kirby’s, Fallon took her hand and pulled herself to her feet, standing awkwardly between her and the bed before clearing her throat and heading for the door.

“I should see if they want me in any pictures. I’ll come find you, okay?”

“Sure.” While not enjoying the idea of being left alone to mingle, and yet simultaneously relieved at the idea of a quick break from one another, Kirby forced a tight smile and nodded once, pretending to adjust the strap of her own shoe until Fallon had left and closed the door between them.

* * *

Fallon did not come to find Kirby. 

Kirby got caught up with a few guests, after running into Sam and Steven and congratulating them again, and was stuck in a loop of answering questions and avoiding taking photos as best she could. She hadn’t realized how much time had gotten away from her until she could feel the sluggish heaviness setting in from the champagne she had opted to nurse slowly while waiting for her girlfriend. Her stomach felt uncomfortably tight, and as well as she managed to keep up her polite facade, she was growing impatient and irritable the longer that she stood around talking to strangers about herself. 

She was finally steered away by Sam, who wordlessly took her by the crook of the elbow and levelled an unsteady gaze on her.

“Hey, just… c’mere for a second.”

He was coherent, but clearly drunk - she’d seen him out of the corner of her eye across the room at an earlier point and he’d seemed carefree and happy then, though now his overall demeanour was a little more urgent. 

“What is it?”

Feeling worried when Sam didn’t immediately answer, Kirby breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled her into the smaller den and she spotted Fallon, leaning against the piano in what looked like a low-heat but high-condescension debate with another man. 

“Take her to bed, please, before she goes all… business-mode Barbie and starts scouting.”

Rolling her eyes in amusement, Kirby turned to thank Sam, but he had already left.

Weaving across the partially-full room, Kirby interrupted as politely as she could, ignoring the annoyed look on the man’s face. Whatever they were discussing - or arguing about, rather - was clearly agitating him.

“Fallon, I just need to borrow you for one  _ really  _ quick second, okay?”

She felt the brunette toss her weight into her side a little more than she’d been expecting as she stood to her full height, but took it in stride and slipped an arm around her waist, trying to avoid the appearance of supporting her as best she could.

“I got sidetracked,” Fallon explained. Her voice didn’t have much more than a hint of a slur to it, and her focus was absolute and intense. That wasn’t particularly out of character for her while finding someone to argue with while drunk, though, and her wobbly steps finally stilled when they reached the stairs and she was able to grab the railing instead.

“That’s fine,” Kirby promised, letting one hand stray to rest on her lower back, keeping an eye on her balance as they managed to make it up the stairs. She led them towards Fallon’s room, looking around down the hall before nudging the door open and softly pulling Fallon inside. 

“This is what you needed to borrow me for?” Fallon asked, stepping closer to the bed before whirling around and grinning almost slyly across the room. The force of her turn caused her to quickly sit down on the edge of the mattress, reaching down to pull her shoes off. “Was this just a rescue mission?”

“Of sorts,” Kirby replied, coming closer and climbing up beside her to help her unzip her dress. 

“Ah,” Fallon hummed, chuckling to herself before flopping back against the sheets in her still half-zipped dress, staring up at the redhead.

“No, Fallon.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Her face immediately morphed into a pout, and Kirby had to roll her eyes to resist grinning.

It did pull at her heartstrings, though, at least a little. She did miss her - they were together right then and she still felt entirely too far away. Having her half-messy and giggling like this, genuinely needy for the first time in god only knew how long, brought on a deep, heavy ache in her chest that didn’t go away when she looked away.

“C’mon,” Fallon tried, reaching for her hands from her spot.

“How about you sleep this one off, babe.” Leaning over her and kissing her forehead, Kirby stood back up and helped Fallon to sit up as well, and the pair of them wrangled her dress off. 

Fallon was obviously more tired than she had wanted to let on, immediately crawling into the covers without another word of protest, and closing her eyes sleepily when Kirby tucked her in.

“You’re not staying?”

“I’m just going to do one more lap. I’ll be back up soon,” Kirby promised, leaning over and kissing her briefly before swiping her cigarettes from her bag and heading back out the hall. Fallon was fast asleep by the time she closed the door behind herself, and she wandered down the stairs to reenter the fray. 

She didn’t see Sam anywhere, so she headed for the kitchen alone, slipping past the staff milling around and cleaning, and then headed towards the servants’ entrance to the yard. If her memory served correctly, the stables would be just east once she stepped out the doors, and she wasn’t sure Fallon was going to be in much of a hurry to show her the next morning while nursing a hangover. 

It was nice to be alone - especially out in the open with fresh air. She hadn’t really realized how much she’d been missing it by living in LA until she’d stepped off the private plane in Atlanta. The Carrington Manor was far enough away from all of the traffic, and it was surprising given the amount of land that they didn’t own half the state.

The stables looked locked, so Kirby shifted her direction to head for the fenced-in pasture, instead. She could see the faint outlines of horses in the distance, and figured they’d probably be better company for her cigarette break than any of the people inside.

Climbing up onto the bottom board of the fence, Kirby leaned over the top and popped her cigarette between her lips, breaking up the sounds of crickets with the sharp flick of her lighter.

She was content to watch the couple of horses wander boredly around, and almost felt a little entranced by it until Steven’s voice directly beside her startled her.

She dropped her cigarette into the dry grass, scrambling to hop down and grab it, but Steven beat her to it and handed it to her, smiling reassuringly.

“Wouldn’t want to start a fire.”

“No, I suppose that would sort of ruin a wedding,” Kirby hummed back, taking another drag to ensure that the ember hadn’t died out in her struggle. 

Steven leaned against the railing next to her, and she glanced sideways, avoiding blowing smoke onto him.

“What’re you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be at your reception?”

“Probably,” Steven breathed, before seeming to realize the implication. “I’m having a really nice time. I just needed to get some air - especially after the shots - and then I saw you, and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Kirby felt a swell in her chest, suddenly overwhelmed with affection.

“I am. I just wanted one last smoke before bed. Fallon sort of… turned in early.”

“That’s not like her,” Steven mused. He held a hand out hopefully, and Kirby placed her cigarette between his fingers. “Don’t tell my husband.”

Chuckling, she watched the man take a drag before he handed it back, and the two of them turned their gaze out to the horses once more.

A particularly elderly one took its sweet time heading from one small patch of grass to the next, lowering its head like some kind of wise ancient mythological creature each time it wanted to investigate its own surroundings. 

“That’s Butterscotch,” Steven explained, following her gaze. 

“Is he okay?” Kirby asked, feeling a little foolish when Steven chuckled in response.

“He’s fine. Just  _ very  _ old. He was a gift for Fallon when she was little - she won’t let Dad get rid of him, even though I don’t think Butterscotch knows where or what he is most of the time.”

“Butterscotch,” Kirby repeated, rolling the name around in her head before feeling like a lightbulb went off in her mind. “Like Fallon’s -”

“- Very regrettable tattoo. Yes.” Steven finished her sentence for her, turning to her again with a crooked smirk. 

Taking another drag from the cigarette and then offering the remainder to Steven, Kirby climbed down from the fence and dusted away any hints of dirt that she could see on her dress. She’d sort of forgotten how expensive of a gift it was, but it seemed undamaged, so she breathed a sigh of relief.

“I should head in - I left her alone.”

“She’s pretty good at  _ alone _ ,” Steven pointed out, but he didn’t stop her. “It’s everything else that’s a work in progress.”

Smiling in spite of the sad twinge to his words, Kirby turned on her heel and started her trek back towards the main house.

* * *

**TWENTY MONTHS EARLIER**

“C’mon, let me see.”

“Kirby,” Fallon reached over and the redhead was immediately met with a wrist full of freshly manicured, sharp acrylics. “I said stop.”

Drawing back her hand from where she’d been trying to grab the other woman’s pant leg, Kirby pouted, scolded, and crossed her arms.

“I’ve already seen it. I just want a better look. I’ve seen a lot more than your ankle - this isn’t old country, that’s not scandalous.” 

“Oh my god,” Fallon groaned. “Drop it.”

“Will you at least tell me  _ why _ , then? Seriously, this is like the least tight-ass thing I’ve ever learned about you and now you’re  _ depriving  _ me?” Kirby knew the theatrics were a touch obnoxious, but she also knew that after Fallon had said the first time was a mistake, and they’d still ended up having  _ this  _ time, she clearly had some sort of charming pull over her.

“The  _ why  _ is that tattoos are always stupid.” Fallon was clearly trying to insult her, but Kirby just shrugged.

“That’s a bad answer. Did you fuck a cowboy?”

“Okay, get out.” Fallon pointed at the hotel door, reaching for another folder from the stack of files nearest her on the bed.

“You’re not going to call me a car?”

“You’re a big girl.” Fallon didn’t look up.

Snorting in disbelief, Kirby rolled her eyes and stepped into her heels, grabbing her blazer from the back of the door and then sneaking out into the hall.

* * *

**PRESENT**

Cradling Fallon’s leg as gently as possible, as to not wake her, Kirby tucked Fallon’s exposed foot back into the covers before slowly making her way around to the vacant side of the bed. Fallon had taken her claimed spot, during her absence, but it was only one more night before they would be back in their own bed.

Without any of the decorative lighting or candles lit, Fallon’s room looked spooky in the dark. The brunette sprawled out in the messy sheets and blankets seemed cozy, and inviting though, and Kirby felt a surge of urgency to crawl in beside her and cuddle up in her arms.

She pushed it away, though, not wanting to wake her, and tiptoed to the end of the bed, instead, to root through her overnight bag as quietly as she could muster. 

Locating her prescription bottle with what  _ seemed  _ like an alarmingly loud rattle sound, Kirby flinched and froze, waiting for Fallon to react or wake up. She didn’t stir, though, so the redhead continued her mission, gently shaking two pills from the bottle into her hand and tossing them back dry before she could psych herself out any further. 

Fallon barely even moved when Kirby finally slid into the blankets beside her, comfortingly wrapping her arms around her waist and letting her sleepily settle in against her frame. 

When they woke up, Fallon would complain about her hangover, the smell of smoke, and the embarrassment of turning in early from the party, but for now, she simply rolled over and tucked her nose into her girlfriend’s neck, exhaling softly and falling deeper and deeper into her dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fallon's tattoo was an idea handed to me from [Léa](http://twitter.com/avocayo_), during one of many late night sob fests over firby headcanons. Thank you, love.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the impromptu hiatus, & thank you for the patience!

Fallon woke up slowly, rolling her neck and stretching out comfortably under the thick blankets that she was buried under. Her first thought was that she must’ve slept through her alarm, because of how deeply rested she felt. The second thought she had was how terribly her head hurt. She only had a moment of peace before the thudding ache made her squeeze her eyes shut again, colors dancing behind her lids and dizziness washing over her. 

“Morning, gorgeous.”

Peeking one eye open, Fallon tracked the sound of Kirby’s voice and peered up at her, a small, nervous smile spreading across her lips before she could help herself.

“I didn’t embarrass myself last night, did I?”

Kirby pursed her lips, staring up and off to the right as if trying to decide. Whining softly under her breath, Fallon quickly covered her face with both hands and groaned into them.

“Oh, stop. You were fine,” Kirby’s hands covered her own, pulling them away so that she could kiss her softly. “Definitely not winning any ‘ _ Biggest Jackass of the Night’  _ awards.”

Pulling back and sitting up, the redhead reached up and undid the tie in her hair, letting the messy bun she’d thrown it into tumble around her shoulders and down her back. 

“What’s the plan for today?” She asked.

Fallon groaned softly again.

“I think coffee… and maybe an IV.”

“I didn’t even see you drink that much,” Kirby replied. Fallon closed her eyes again and felt her shuffling out of the bed, then heard her wander to retrieve her clothes. 

“Well, I did,” Fallon replied. “And I didn’t exactly eat much, either.”

She heard Kirby approach the bed again, this time on her side, and then felt it dip at her hip when she sat beside her. 

With perfect timing, her stomach growled and Kirby chuckled, reaching over and prodding at her softly. 

“Maybe we should start with breakfast. Take it slow today.”

Fallon shook her head, grabbing her offending hand and holding it still.

“ _ Yes _ to breakfast,  _ no  _ to taking it slow. I have a couple of calls to make before anything else. I need to catch up - it’s already… holy shit, eight o’clock?” Fallon glanced at the clock beside the bed and then nearly launched herself out of it, scrambling to strip and run to the bathroom at the same time. “I’ll meet you downstairs - you should start eating.”

She was sure she heard Kirby leave just as she turned on the shower, barely giving the water time to warm up before she climbed in. The night before was hazy, but as she woke up more, the fog subsided from her memories and they played back in her mind with more and more clarity. 

The conversations she’d had before the wedding, with both Alexis and Blake, had left a stiffness in her shoulders and back that had only gotten worse with the dehydration from drinking. The steam of the shower did little to ease the tightness, so Fallon mentally made a note to book a massage for the next afternoon, once they were back home and settled into their routine again. 

_ ‘You’re not good enough at this job to think you’re too good for this job’. _

Blake’s words echoed in her head as she reached for her shampoo and poured a healthy amount into her palm. It was too much, but would give her the excuse of spending a few extra minutes rinsing under the hot water before having to face the world - or, at least, her family.

She  _ didn’t _ think she was too good for her job - well, maybe her confidence had inflated a little since she’d started out, but that had been years ago, and she had earned her own self-respect with her work ethic and track record.

Blake was right that she hadn’t taken home a win in the last couple of years, though. Still, she hadn’t missed a nomination since she’d been allowed to start working the season. 

Grabbing her conditioner once the water ran clean through her hair, Fallon stepped out of the stream and scrunched it into the ends of her hair. What had her father meant about barely keeping her head above the water? The whole reason she hadn’t started working with Jeff on press was because nothing had been confirmed. He liked to be a step ahead of her, usually, but he was still a professional, and he wouldn’t have blindsided her - and Kirby - if he’d managed to lock down her part, just to have a split second of being the smartest man in the room.

That was, unless, Kirby knew something that Fallon didn’t.

She wouldn’t do that, though, would she? They’d been on pretty different wavelengths, lately, but there wasn’t any serious tension that Fallon could sense. Besides, it wasn’t like Kirby to layer her lies - and after the pill fiasco, things had been surprisingly okay between them, despite the distance. 

Fallon did miss the way things had been when they’d first gotten together, but she didn’t think she’d given Kirby any real reason to pull away from her. The physical distance that landing this role would put between them was its own obstacle, but Fallon had been convinced - up until now - that the routine of work would outweigh the miles between them for those weeks.

Twisting the shower knob to ‘cold’ for a few seconds, letting the sudden drop in temperature lock the shine into her hair - and snap her back to focused reality - Fallon stepped out of the stall and grabbed her towel, wrapping it tightly around her chest before heading back into the bedroom to get dressed.

Kirby had clearly heeded the warning to go downstairs to eat, so Fallon was left alone in the quiet to finish getting ready, trying to ignore the thoughts that she’d meant to leave behind in the shower.

The scene that greeted her when she headed into the dining room herself made her skin crawl. Most of the guests that had stayed the night were likely out and about in the city for breakfast, or eating in the comforts of their own rooms, leaving Blake, Cristal, and Kirby the only ones at the family table.

“You’re finally up,” Blake greeted. Fallon bit the inside of her cheek and forced a quick, tight smile before coming to take her seat next to Kirby. 

“That was my fault,” Kirby supplied, causing Cristal’s eyebrows to jump upwards. “I uh - I slept in.” 

Her correction made Cristal’s attention jump from Kirby to Fallon, her head cocking to the side.

“We were just talking about  _ Petal’s Edge _ \- the Piper Solveil project?”

“I know what it’s called,” Fallon lied through her teeth tersely. “Did you -”

“I haven’t signed anything, yet,” Kirby replied, holding both hands up in defence. “Jeff just seems pretty confident. I’m not doing much else, so pre-planning my schedule doesn’t hurt.”

It fell quiet for a moment, comfortably so, and Fallon reached over to drop some bacon onto her plate. 

“Coffee?”

“They’re making a fresh pot,” Kirby told her, smiling easily as she slid her own steaming mug closer to Fallon. “You can have the rest of mine.”

Fallon took it gratefully, raising it to her lips and pausing as she caught Cristal’s eye across the table, then glancing up to catch Blake’s as well. The source of their quiet, contemplative staring was easy to understand - Blake hadn’t seen Fallon date particularly often while she’d still been living at home, and she hadn’t had a  _ girl _ friend since she was in high school. Even then, bringing her around into Blake’s line of sight was more of an act of defiance and rebellion than anything else. She’d stopped trying to shock him when he never seemed to react. 

Cristal, on the other hand, must have been inwardly reeling at the blatant act of softness being performed in front of her.

Fallon  _ did  _ spend a good amount of her time and energy trying to intimidate her stepmother, so it made sense. Still, it was almost frustrating that she had torn down what was probably weeks of efforts with a single, silent, ‘ _ thanks babe’ _ , and sharing a cup with the woman beside her. Kirby had that effect on her, though. She usually just didn’t notice it until she saw it in the reactions of the people who admittedly knew her best.

“I’ve made sure that the jet would be ready immediately,” Blake finally spoke. “The two of you can head back to LA as soon as you’re packed and ready. Any dry-cleaning can come back with Cristal and me tomorrow, just leave it with the staff.”

“Sorry,” Fallon frowned, setting the mug down. “You’ll be here? Doing what, exactly?”

“Cristal and I thought it would be good to spend another day with Steven and Sam before they leave for their honeymoon,” Blake answered, his knife scraping against his plate loudly as he tore into his own food.

Scoffing under her breath, Fallon pressed her knee to Kirby’s under the table and tried to keep her temper in check.

“That seems a little hypocritical.”

“It shouldn’t,” Blake replied sharply, not even looking at her as he reached for his own mimosa. “Especially given our conversation yesterday - you should be ready to get back to work. I’m sure Kirby’s looking forward to it, right?”

Kirby opened her mouth to reply and Fallon felt her hands shake with adrenaline.

“It’ll be great,” Kirby insisted, clearly trying to smooth over the sudden tension in the room. “I sort of need to sleep in my own bed again, anyway.”

“Perfect, then!” Cristal beamed, clearly following Kirby’s lead.

The smile dropped from the woman’s face as Fallon turned to her, but she wasn’t looking at the publicist. Her gaze was instead focused on the door behind her, and Fallon knew who was arriving before even turning in her seat.

_ “Good morning!”  _

Everyone at the table seemed to go tense at the same time, and Fallon felt a genuine surge of affection for both Blake and Cristal that vanished as quickly as it had arrived. A moment of solidarity, despite how annoyed she was with them both.

“I couldn’t help but overhear…” Alexis’s voice floated into the room, growing clearer as she entered and took a seat at the farthest end of the table, opposite Blake. “I think another day away from Los Angeles would be  _ good  _ for Fallon.”

Shoving a piece of bacon into her mouth quickly, Fallon practically ground her jaw as she chewed, knowing she’d be leaving momentarily.

“Time away from the routine of work and a… less than exciting home life can be good for a relationship.”

“ _ Oh my god _ ,” Fallon breathed quietly, feeling Kirby go stiff in the seat beside her.

“The timing is perfect. Kirby  _ clearly  _ isn’t busy, and you  _ do  _ work our poor daughter half to death in that office. Look at her, you can see the stress lines - she isn’t even in her thirties.”

“Okay,” Fallon stood abruptly, tossing her napkin from her lap onto her still-full plate. “We’re not doing this. My relationship is fine. Her work schedule is fine,” she gestured to Kirby, before patting her shoulder less-than-gently. “Kirby, we’re leaving.”

She didn’t look back as she heard the scrape of Kirby’s chair on the floor in her rush to stand, as well. The mediating, tension-soothing role that the actress had taken on had vanished for quiet subservience just in time, and Fallon felt momentarily a little relieved that Kirby had simply followed without question, just this one time.

The staff hadn’t been by to pack in the time that the pair of them had been downstairs, so Fallon quickly got to work, wordlessly handing Kirby her own items that had made their way around the room over the course of the weekend. 

She could tell from the nature of the silence that Kirby had questions and was burning to ask them, but she didn’t give her the opening to, packing tensely and roughly, before grabbing her phone to double-check the battery while tossing her charger into her carry on bag. 

The stress had rebuilt itself after she’d tried to steam it out in the shower, and when Kirby silently slipped one hand up to the back of her neck in lieu of asking if she was okay, she felt like her nerves were on fire.

Brushing her away softly but turning to grab her hand, letting her know that she wasn’t being snubbed, Fallon fixed her with a quick, tense smile, and shook her head.

“Don’t worry about them. I’m sorry my mom was such a bitch to you - please don’t take it personally.”

“Between you and me,” Kirby replied, a tiny hint of a smile playing on the corner of her mouth, “I’ve never been much of the ‘bring this one home to your parents’ type. I was more of the… ‘girls date me to piss off their parents’ type.”

Laughing softly in spite of herself, Fallon let the redhead pull her closer into a hug.

“I can see that.”

“Hey,” Kirby huffed, her breath tickling the brunette’s ear. “I get to say that to be self-deprecating and make you feel better. You don’t get to agree.”

Gently slipping away from her, Fallon turned to grab her suitcase and drop it to the floor, pulling the handle out and then glancing back at the redhead with a final, resigned sigh.

“Ready?”

“I’ve been ready all weekend,” Kirby replied with more honesty than Fallon had been expecting.

* * *

While Kirby slept for most of the flight home, Fallon pushed past her own anxiety and worked. She hadn’t felt as overwhelmed as she did now since she’d started working - and even then, the rush of everything had been so exciting that it had fueled her focus and drive. 

Clicking on a PDF attachment in her email - an updated schedule that Will’s new manager - one of the freshly-merged employees previously from the  _ Visight  _ team that Kori had finally pawned him off onto - had sent, Fallon watched it load on her laptop screen and then began to scroll through her inbox on her phone, as well.

Beside her, Kirby stirred in her sleep, accidentally nudging the laptop a little and cuddling closer to Fallon’s thigh before being still once more. For a brief moment, Fallon felt a surge of resentment, but squashed it away. Kirby worked hard - she just wasn’t working right at that moment, which was why it seemed so unfair. 

The email from Jeff glared at her in from the tiny screen, and with a sigh of frustration, she pulled it up and scanned it with disinterest.

_ Tried to call, but I guess you’re in Atlanta already. _

_ Have a good break, call me when you’re back in town to talk scheduling for K.A. _

Rolling her eyes, Fallon hit ‘reply’ and quickly tapped out her one-line response:  _ ‘I’ll be back in LA in a couple of hours. Meet you at the office, I’ll call from the road.’ _

Closing her laptop and locking her phone in a single swift movement, Fallon leaned back in her seat and rubbed her temples, taking a few deep breaths to calm the frustration in her chest. The breathing slowed her anger in its tracks but did nothing for the creeping sense of unease that still clawed its way up the back of her neck, tightening in her stomach and temples simultaneously. 

With Kirby still fast asleep in her lap, Fallon glanced at her overnight bag next to the couch and then reached into it as carefully as possible. 

Her pills were right on the top of the pile - Kirby had taken one before they’d lifted off, citing discomfort at how they’d left Fallon’s parents’ house in a bad mood - but Fallon had to wonder how well they worked for her. Kirby’s own prescription was considerably stronger; however, it had been a while since Fallon had seen her touch the bottle in their medicine cabinet. She hadn’t  _ meant  _ to keep an eye on it, or Kirby, but she did notice that the number of pills in the bottle that she’d found before hadn’t dwindled much at all since their discussion. It was comforting to know that maybe Kirby had perhaps been feeling a little better.

Combing her fingers through the actress’s hair softly, Fallon willed herself to relax, compartmentalizing each of the tasks she’d need to work on once they landed back home. 

Despite the workload, Fallon spent the remaining hour and change of the flight getting in touch with Liam - or trying to. His sudden lurch into higher success was good for him, but bad for her when she needed him to be ready at will. If Blake was right - if Jeff knew something about  _ Petal’s Edge  _ that she and Kirby didn’t - it would be good to be ready to announce it, once the studio was prepared, too. 

She hardly noticed when they started their descent, barely waking Kirby up in time to get buckled in before they landed.

The car ride home was quiet; Kirby was clearly still trying to wake herself up after the mix of an early morning and the medication, and Fallon felt too in her own head to even bother attempting any kind of conversation. 

Kirby took her hand sleepily as they headed from the car to the door, stopping in the foyer of their house and turning to Fallon with what could only be described as the pout of an exhausted toddler.

“What’re you doing?” Her eyes trailed from Fallon’s face up her arm, where she was reaching for her own car keys that were hanging beside the door.

“I need to head into the office for a little bit.”

“Wait - seriously? No,” Kirby stepped closer, reaching out and covering her hand that held her keys. “You’re exhausted. Let’s just lay down, order some food, and you’ll feel way better tomorrow.”

“I feel  _ fine,”  _ Fallon insisted, gently shaking her hand free and dropping her overnight bag next to the door. “I have to meet with Jeff before he goes home for the night, and there’s a few last-minute things I want to solidify if I’m going to have any kind of mental peace that’ll let me sleep tonight. Okay?”

Kirby eyed her for another moment, then relented, coming closer to kiss her softly in parting.

“You won’t be long?”

“No more than a couple of hours. Promise. I’m not even tired.”

“You better not be lying.” Kirby’s words lacked all threat, aside from playful, and Fallon felt a little wave of relief at knowing that at least on top of everything else, she didn’t need to worry about Kirby stressing over her.

“I’ll call you. You should get a nap in.”

Chuckling in defeat, Kirby reached around and grabbed Fallon’s bag in her free hand, turning to head to the stairs.

The humidity was cloying as Fallon stepped back out onto the driveway and headed to her car, hiking her purse up on her arm and ignoring the ache in her feet and neck.

She dialed Jeff’s number once her phone was connected to the car’s Bluetooth, and dug around in her purse for her powder to touch up her makeup. The recycled air of the plane hadn’t done her any favours, but she didn’t have time to shower and get ready from scratch again.

_ “Jeff Colby.” _

“It’s Fallon. I can be at the office in half an hour - you’re still there?”

_ “Just waiting on you,”  _ he replied smoothly.  _ “How was the flight?” _

“It was a flight.” Her screen lit up as she put the car into reverse, turning around to back out of the driveway and gate, onto the main road. “You have everything ready?”

_ “I’ll see you shortly.” _

The receiver beeped once, and the radio replaced the sound of the call, filling the car.

She barely made it out of their neighbourhood before her phone chimed again, a text message flashing on the small touch screen in the dash.

_ [11:13AM] Will Chevale: hey, just checking in about the updated schedule - let me know if those changes work so i can get back to kori _

_ [11:13AM] Will Chevale: hope the weekend went well! _

An attachment arrived next, and Fallon could tell even from the tiny thumbnail that it was a screen-capture of the PDF she’d been going over earlier on the plane.

Right. That would be her next priority, after she was finished meeting with Jeff.

The quiet music on the radio did little to calm her down, and the car was beginning to feel uncomfortably warm, so Fallon cranked the A/C as she pulled into slower traffic heading towards the office.

If Jeff really was landing Kirby the role in Germany, she’d have to start thinking about accommodations, as well. It wasn’t a part of her professional job description, but she didn’t want anyone cutting corners when it came to the actress’s comfort, especially given the precarious state that her mental health had been in over the last year. She should have been able to sit back and let management and production handle it, but the idea of Kirby feeling trapped or unsure of herself in a foreign country without Fallon there to keep her level-headed made her feel nauseated with worry.

The sun beat down through the windshield as traffic slowed almost to a standstill, and Fallon found herself writhing uncomfortably in her seat before worming out of her jacket and tossing it messily into the passenger’s side spot.

_ Now, you’re barely keeping your head above the water. _

Blake’s words felt more true right then than they had when he’d first said them to her, and as much as she hated to admit that maybe he was right, it was starting to catch up with her.

The lack of food she’d had at breakfast, paired with the single drink on the plane and now the heat made her feel faint, so she dug around in the center console for an emergency power-bar. Staring at the label made Fallon feel suddenly, urgently ill, so she set it back down and closed her eyes, pressing her forehead to the steering wheel and taking a couple of what she hoped would be calming breaths.

Her phone buzzed in the cradle before the alert sound filled the car, a new email appearing at the top of her notifications. Pulling the phone from the cradle and unlocking it quickly, Fallon ignored the sweat that she could feel pooling on the surface of her skin, her entire face clammy, and shakily brought up the new message.

It was the production office on behalf of Scarlett, wanting to follow up on Fallon’s  _ Fangoria  _ offer.

She’d forgotten about  _ that _ , too, then realized she also needed to call the magazine back, as well, to confirm that they were on board. A wave of cold passed over her entire body, followed by unbearable heat, and she dropped her phone to her lap to grab the steering wheel instead. Glancing back in her mirror to make sure that no one was coming, Fallon yanked the car out of traffic and onto the emergency shoulder, letting go of the wheel as she slammed on the brakes and threw the car into ‘park’.

Swallowing was suddenly a foreign action, to her - her throat felt thick, and dry, like she’d just swallowed flour and tried to wash it down with ice water.  _ Oh my god, I’m going to pass out.  _ She squeezed her eyes shut, taking a slow, deep breath, and leaning closer to the air conditioner vent. 

It took only a moment to pass - shorter than any previous anxiety attack she’d had in the past, though it had been so long that it felt more intense than she remembered. With a breath of relief at having  _ not  _ blacked out on the side of a busy highway, Fallon slumped back into her seat and reached blindly down the side to adjust it back into a more reclined position.

Above her head, through the sunroof, the cloudless sky seemed completely unmoving save for the visible waves of heat that Fallon was sure she wasn’t imagining. Her breathing returned to normal, and for a moment she felt completely relieved, forgetting what came next. 

She only had that brief lapse of relaxation before her chest heaved and the tears came. Her phone continued to chirp with new notifications in her lap as she managed to keep her sobbing at an acceptable volume, as if worried that anyone on the road would care or stop. It was futile to try to fight off, and sitting in her own car, as traffic rolled leisurely by beside her, it was the first time that Fallon felt safely alone enough to finally let it out in a long time.


	20. Chapter 20

“Hey, how’s it going?” Kirby picked up Jeff’s call on the first ring, rolling over leisurely on the giant sectional couch in the living room. Fallon’s suggestion of a quick nap had been smart - the publicist was rarely off the mark with her ideas, though.

_ “Good - great, actually,”  _ Jeff replied. His tone was light, almost smug - Kirby felt her nerves crawl with excitement just by proxy. Usually, when he sounded like this, it was amazing news.  _ “ _ So, Fallon just left the office, but she told me that it fell under my jurisdiction to get to break the news _.” _

“And what’s that?” Kirby sat upright, bringing one hand up to chew at her cuticle before remembering Fallon’s distaste for the habit and dropping it to her lap again. 

“Don’t get unpacked too quickly - the  _ Rasselbock  _ part is all yours - assuming you still want it, that is.”

“YES!” Kirby leapt up onto the couch, all earlier tiredness forgotten, and clutched the phone to her ear with both hands. “Oh my  _ god,  _ finally!” 

She felt like she was going to sob with relief, giddy excitement shocking down her arms to the tips of her fingers and fluttering around in her stomach.

“Hey,” Jeff laughed, “Don’t  _ finally  _ me, I needed to make sure everything was good - I don’t let any of my people walk away unsatisfied.”

Kirby slowed her bouncing to a stop.

“What do you mean?”

“I told you we had this in the bag. I just wanted to make sure that the bag was worth your time.”

Sinking back down to sit on the edge of the couch, Kirby worried her lower lip between her teeth in thought. Fallon  _ had  _ mentioned the shift in dynamic that would happen now that Jeff was receiving 10%. The trust she’d been so adamant about having seemed a little less solid, now.

“How worth it?”

“We can talk in person. Let’s just say upward of a few hundred thousand, but below a mil. Way above your original price, and I didn’t even have to change the fine print.”

“Wow,” Kirby breathed. She  _ definitely  _ still trusted him.

“Hey, it’s the least they could do for dragging you away from your girlfriend  _ and  _ the good weather.”

“What if they’d said ‘no’?”

“They didn’t.” Jeff didn’t hesitate to answer, tacking on a distracted “I’ve still got some stuff to clear up here before I head home for the night. Email if you need me - but you should be out celebrating tonight. Nothing crazy, of course. The ink is still drying.”

“Thank you, Jeff.”

He hung up without another word, leaving Kirby alone to process her own feelings. The nerves, excitement, and relief all crashed together into one overwhelming high, and she found herself laughing as she fell back against the pillows and throw blanket she’d been napping with only a few minutes earlier.

Jeff had said that Fallon had left for home already, so Kirby leapt to her feet again, rushing off to the bedroom and digging around for her pills. She didn’t want to overwhelm the other woman too much with her own excitement, especially since she was probably still a little tired from her day, so she quickly tossed back a single pill - just to level herself out - and then headed back downstairs to find some champagne to chill.

Champagne always cheered the other woman up - among other things - in the right context. Putting two flutes in with the bottle to chill, Kirby quickly wiped down the counters and headed back into the living room to tidy up the couch. Feeling a little overeager for Fallon to get home from work wasn’t a new feeling for Kirby, but it felt less pathetic this time, now that it would be one of the last times she’d experience it for a while. She wasn’t even back to work yet, and she could already feel the new project doing wonders for her self esteem. 

Just as she stood at the glass sliding door that led to the backyard, wondering if it would be too presumptuous to heat the jacuzzi, the front door creaked open, and Kirby felt her heart jump up into her throat.

Doing her best not to literally run around the corner, Kirby skittered along in a barely-controlled speed-walk, stopping dead at the sight of Fallon tiredly unloading her bag and files onto the chaise by the door.

The publicist caught a single look at her, and smiled tiredly, stepping further into the foyer as she shrugged off her jacket.

“Jeff called you, already.”

Feeling like her grin might split her face, Kirby let out a sound somewhere between agreement and a simple squeal of excitement, practically bouncing along the last few steps between them and pulling Fallon in to kiss her.

“I’m proud of you,” Fallon sighed as she pulled back, holding both sides of the other woman’s face to fix her with a more relaxed look. “Sorry, I’m just tired.”

“I have just the thing,” Kirby told her, wiggling out of her embrace and grabbing her hand, dragging her towards the living room. She deposited Fallon on the couch and headed into the kitchen, digging out the bottle and glasses from earlier before returning to her.

Chuckling at the sight of the champagne, Fallon held a hand out for one of the glasses, wincing away as Kirby popped the cork.

“We can have a drink, and if you still don’t feel better, I’ll celebrate alone.” Kirby’s promise wrung a tiny huff of a humorless laugh out of her girlfriend, but she didn’t protest, and instead sipped from her flute before throwing almost the entirety of its contents back like a shot.

“Uh… here.” Quickly refilling her glass, and then taking a few generous sips of her own, she settled in next to Fallon and reached for her, planting one hand on her thigh reassuringly. “We don’t have to do this. I’m sorry.”

Fallon turned to her, the tiredness even more clear on her face in the bright natural light that flooded in from the large windows across the side of the room. Her eyes flicked back and forth between Kirby’s for a moment, and then she dropped her gaze, as if preparing to tell her something earth-shattering. 

But then, she sipped her drink once more and fixed her with a smile.

“I’m fine. It’s just really hot out. We  _ should  _ be celebrating.”

“Are you sure? Because -”

“It’s just work stress, Kirby,” Fallon cut her off. “I promise, it’s nothing I don’t have a good handle on, and nothing you should be wasting energy worrying about. Your focus right now needs to be getting ready for this shoot - you have a lot less time to prepare this time than you ever have before.” Everything she was saying was true, but it was nothing Kirby wanted to think about for the time being. It was a surprising and unwelcome undercut to the happiness she’d been soaking in only moments before - it felt like the medication she’d taken after her phone call wasn’t quite living up to its job.

“I mean, even with  _ The Last Fire,  _ you -” Fallon continued, but Kirby cut her off, this time.

“Fallon, I don’t want you to stress me out about this.”

Her words stopped her girlfriend in her tracks, verbally. 

“I feel really good about this, and I  _ know  _ that it’s going to be a little tight. but I need to know that you have faith in me with this.”

“Okay,” Fallon replied, after a moment, glancing down at her lap and fiddling with the stem of her champagne flute. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

A surge of guilt replaced any creeping anxiety that Kirby had been feeling a moment earlier, and she set her own flute down on the coffee table to bring Fallon’s legs up into her lap.

“We haven’t had much to celebrate, lately. Maybe if you’re feeling up for it, we could get dinner? Haven’t been out in a while - we could go somewhere quiet… candlelit, romantic.”

A small, wry smile appeared on Fallon’s lips as she watched Kirby tug her heels off and drop them to the floor. 

“Oh yeah? You’re gonna wine and dine me? I’m not exactly a cheap date.”

“My contract for my new job is very generous,” Kirby told her, sitting up straighter and rubbing her thumb over the top of one of her feet. “I think I can afford  _ one  _ date.”

Laughing quietly, if not a little tiredly, Fallon twisted her leg in a silent encouragement for her to continue and then reached for the champagne bottle.

“Dinner is good. On the condition that I get some rest, first.”

“That sounds very fair to me,” Kirby agreed, squeezing her foot before dropping it and starting on the other. “You’re sure its nothing you want to talk about?”

Fallon watched her for a moment, then quietly shook her head.

“It’s fine.”

“Alright.” Finishing her own glass, Kirby reached over and took the bottle from Fallon’s hands, sitting up once more to top up both of their glasses. “Let’s finish this, then get you to bed.”

* * *

A quick soak in the jacuzzi, another glass of wine, and another pill later, Kirby was running low on things to do while she waited for Fallon to wake up. It wasn’t like her to sleep during the day, usually, but it had been a rocky morning, and Kirby was still looking forward to a long-overdue date night, that evening. 

More than once, she found herself reaching for her pill bottle again without  _ really  _ needing it - almost as something to fill a moment of boredom. She’d only caved the once, chalking it up to needing  _ some  _ kind of boost, or high, just to push through the hour that she waited for Fallon - but did tuck the bottle into the pocket of one of her warmer, lesser-used jackets in the front hallway closet afterward, for safekeeping.

It was hard not to be too excited when Fallon finally emerged from their room, still in the process of putting on her earrings as she descended the stairs to the foyer.

“What is it?” The brunette paused on the bottom step, slowing lowering her arms to her sides. “Too much? I didn’t know where we were going.”

“Nothing - no, you look nice.” Kirby quickly closed the distance between them. With Fallon still standing on the last step, they were perfectly eye to eye, and Kirby took advantage by cupping her chin and kissing her quickly. “I wasn’t sure when you’d be up. I’ll go get dressed.”

Fallon looked more put together than Kirby had been anticipating, and she wondered as she headed up the stairs to their room if the brunette already had a place in mind. When they’d first started dating, it had been mostly up to Fallon to pick the places that they went for dates - after all, she knew much more about the city than Kirby did - but the more time Kirby lived in LA, and the more friends with more experience than her that she made, the more confident she became with making decisions for the two of them. 

Maybe the date night just felt as overdue for Fallon as it had for Kirby.

_ Or  _ she had a place in mind because she’d been  _ waiting  _ for Kirby to get off her ass and give them a reason to leave the house.

…Where had  _ that  _ come from?

Shaking the unnecessary worry out of her shoulders, Kirby dug into the closet and pulled out something she hoped would compliment Fallon’s choice, stripping quickly and changing as she heard the brunette making her way back up the stairs.

“I’m almost ready!” She called, just as she heard the bedroom door opening.

The door creaked a little, then stopped, before Fallon’s voice, muffled, came through.

“D’you want me to get you a jacket? It’s kind of cooling down, finally.”

“Sure, uh -” Abruptly remembering her barely-concealed pill bottle in one of her jacket pockets, Kirby quickly backpedaled. “No! No, I’m good. I was outside while you were sleeping and I honestly might be a little overheated. I should be okay.”

“I’m not giving you  _ my  _ jacket if you get cold,” Fallon warned playfully, before the door clicked shut again and Kirby was left to calm her pounding heart rate.

Her reflection almost felt unrecognizable when she glanced at herself in a mirror, and it took her a full moment to realize how out-of-body she was really feeling. Ignoring the slowly growing dissociation, Kirby chalked it up to an after-effect from her momentary panic over the pills in the closet and made her way downstairs to meet Fallon. 

If the brunette had any idea of the turmoil she’d momentarily caused, she didn’t show it - and instead took Kirby’s hand as they stepped out the front door to lead her to the car.

“Does it count as me taking you on a date if you drive?” Kirby pondered aloud, laughing when Fallon came around the passenger’s side to open her door for her, first. 

“I don’t know,” Fallon replied, her voice muffling as the door shut and she made her way around to the driver’s side. “Probably not. This isn’t off to a great start.”

“It  _ is  _ cooling down, though,” Kirby pointed out. “That’s a plus.”

Starting the car, Fallon leaned forward to look up through the windshield at the now-cloudy sky, before nodding. 

The drive itself was longer than Kirby had been expecting, and while the two of them didn’t talk much, she was still beginning to feel a little more at ease about the entire evening. Fallon left her hand on her thigh while she drove, chewing at her lip in concentration as she surveyed the traffic around them, completely unaware of how intently Kirby was watching her. When she concentrated on anything - especially work - she always furrowed her brow, occasionally pursing her lips or letting her tongue poke out from the corner of her mouth, but driving was different. She looked like she was hunting, her eyes darting around and her grip on the wheel readjusting each time before she pulled their car into a different area of traffic.

“What?”

Kirby hadn’t even realized she’d been caught staring, clearing her throat and shaking her head a little as Fallon pulled onto another, quieter North Hollywood street.

“Huh? Nothing.”

“You seem a little spaced,” Fallon observed, cocking her head to the side before focusing on the road again.

“No I’m not.” Kirby didn’t mean to answer so shortly, surprising even herself, but Fallon said nothing about her tone.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” Kirby sighed, trying to keep the exasperation from her voice. Her earlier anxiousness slid back into her mind, almost unnoticed for a moment. “Sorry. I think I’m more tired than I thought.”

“We can go back if you want,” Fallon said.

“No!” Kirby quickly covered her girlfriend’s hand on her thigh with her own. “No, I don’t want to go home.”

She wasn’t sure why the idea of being home and alone - with Fallon - felt so uncomfortable, but she did know she wanted fresh air, immediately. Rolling down her side window and leaning back into her own seat, Kirby closed her eyes and let the cool evening air filter in.

Fallon didn’t bother her again, after that, until they arrived at their destination.

Climbing out as the valet opened her door, Kirby waited for Fallon to weave around the car and hand off her keys, before taking Kirby’s hand.

“Have you been here?”

Kirby glanced up at the stunning white-stucco building before them and shook her head. Her eyes trained on the wrought-iron, inner-lit sign:  _ Santuari  _ just as the door was pulled open for them, and Fallon led them inside.

“Reservation?” The hostess asked as they stepped inside, waiting until they were entirely to the podium before she looked up, her eyes training on Fallon, and then jumping to Kirby. Just as she opened her mouth in recognition, Fallon replied for her.

“Carrington.”

The hostess’s eyes snapped back to Fallon in confusion for a moment before she glanced down at her map and cleared her throat.

“Right. Right this way.”

“How’d you find this place?” Kirby asked, retaking Fallon’s hand as they were led through. 

“Someone mentioned it. I can’t remember where, but I did a preliminary search and it seemed okay.” Fallon kept her voice low, tilting her head back to Kirby while she spoke, but their arrival still turned a couple of heads as they were led past a sea of turquoise decor and up a set of iron and stone stairs.

In the privacy of the upstairs balcony, Kirby properly took in her surroundings and then settled in across their low table from Fallon.

“We’ll start with champagne,” Fallon quickly ordered, barely even in her own seat.

“What all do we need to do before I leave?” Kirby asked, adjusting the strap her dress and then leaning closer in the candlelight.

Fallon exhaled heavily through her nose, setting her phone facedown on the table between them. 

“I have a list, I’ll get Jeff to email it. Is there anything you want me to take care of, specifically?”

Kirby eyed her for a moment.

“As my girlfriend or my publicist?” She asked, suddenly acutely aware of how often she’d asked that exact question since they’d started spending time together.

The candlelight should have softened her, but every micro-expression that passed over Fallon’s features while she considered her answer was hypervisible to the actress from where she was seated. Kirby felt almost high, for a second, and didn’t realize that Fallon had completely skipped over answering her question until their champagne was delivered.

“Are we celebrating tonight?”

The server’s question snapped Kirby out of her train of thought, and just as she opened her mouth to answer, Fallon pressed the toe of her shoe against the actress’s shin.

“Just having a night out,” she lied, smiling stiffly before reaching for one of the glasses as he completed the pour, handing it to Kirby.

“No harm in that,” he replied obliviously, handing the second glass to Fallon. “Need any more time with the menu?”

“No,” Fallon hummed, reaching for one of them as a formality. “I think we’re going to…”

Kirby tuned her out as she ordered their spread, glancing around the space curiously. It was only them on the patio, save for the few bugs floating around the massive towering heat lamps that were spaced out between the tables. They’d all been turned off, probably earlier in the day, but just by looking at them, Kirby felt like she could see the leftover warmth radiating off of them.

“Kirby?”

Turning her attention back to the server, and her girlfriend, the redhead cleared her throat.

“Yes, sorry.”

“D’you want to do hummus or ceviche?”

“Uh… hummus. Thanks.” 

The server left them alone, and Fallon turned on her with a concerned look.

“Seriously, where are you?” She gestured vaguely at her, though her annoyance was undercut with a clear tone of worry.

“I told you, it was just a long day. I probably could have used a nap, too… my brain is doing that… manic overtired thing.” Gesturing at herself, this time, Kirby shook her head and then reached across the table to grab Fallon’s hand before she could pick up her champagne again. “I’m here. Honest. And I’ll probably have the best sleep of my life tonight.”

She waited a moment, watching the concerned look drop from Fallon’s features, and waited for the incoming flirt of a response. Something like  _ ‘Not if I have anything to do with it’,  _ or  _ ‘That messes with my plans’,  _ but nothing came.

Had she really dragged Fallon out for this date night, exhausted? It was getting harder and harder to tell with the other woman when she was doing things for Kirby’s sake as a compromise, and when she was doing them as an obligation. Maybe she’d been growing tired of her for longer than Kirby had even realized.

The first round of food arrived quickly, filling up the center portion of their table, and just as Kirby was beginning to feel a little bit better - the food helped - she was startled by another woman hurrying over to their table in excitement.

Closing her eyes to take a calming breath, Kirby leaned back in her seat to say ‘hello’, but it wasn’t her that the woman was interested in at all.

“Fallon! What’re you doing here?”

Hair so blonde that it was almost blinding flashed in Kirby’s peripherals before Fallon was suddenly standing up from her seat, pulling the new woman into a quick half-hug of greeting.

“Scarlett, this is Kirby - Kirby, this is Scarlett Barnes.”

“Nice to meet you -” Kirby started, only to be cut off by the other woman.

“I’m so glad we’re finally getting to meet! I’m a huge fan.”

There was something underneath the megawatt too-white smile that Kirby immediately recognized as a lie. Before she could properly assess whether or not there was any threat, Fallon took her seat again and spoke.

“Kirby just got a really cool work opportunity - we were just celebrating.”

“Oh, us too!” Scarlett gestured behind herself, and Kirby caught sight of several less-than-put-together people who must have been friends of hers. “We finally got the last big house fire scene finished -  _ months  _ of prep work. I’m so sad you couldn’t see it live!”

She laughed, and Fallon echoed it - Kirby tried not to reel too hard at the sound. It was ingenuine, not that the other actress seemed to notice or care. Or, perhaps it wasn’t. Maybe whatever version of Fallon’s laugh that  _ she’d  _ been hearing all along was fake.

“I don’t want to interrupt, I’ll just leave y’all to it. Congrats, again!” 

Kirby stiffened in her seat when Scarlett reached out and squeezed her shoulder as she turned to go, dropping her jaw slightly and turning to Fallon with what she had to picture was a look of pure bewilderment.

“ _ That  _ is Scarlett Barnes?”

Fallon frowned in confusion, reaching for another bite of food.

“Yeah, why? You disappointed?”

Kirby snorted, putting on an exaggerated, high-pitched Southern accent. “ _ I’ll leave y’all to it, toodles!” _

“She did  _ not  _ say that, and don’t be shitty.” Fallon rolled her eyes, washing her food down with another sip of her champagne before continuing. “She’s actually really cool.”

Kirby stared at her in quiet shock for a moment, then shook her head again.

“Whatever. She seems like a kiss-ass.”

“Being likable isn’t a bad thing, Kirby, not in your line of work.” Fallon’s words had a distinct  _ ‘try it sometime’  _ undertone to them, and Kirby felt a sudden wave of nausea pass over her, vanishing in the same moment that it arrived.

“Are you kidding?” She asked, laughing humorlessly. “She was all over you. I  _ know  _ you saw that.”

“Well, so what?” Fallon sighed, her own volume increasing as well. She seemed to catch herself, shaking her head. “She’s new to all of this - give it a rest.”

Standing up from the table as another wave of nausea hit her, Kirby set her napkin down, ignoring the sound of protest that Fallon made.

“I’m just - going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Her cheeks were hot and her skin felt like there were a thousand bugs crawling all over her, but Kirby ignored all of the discomfort and made her way back inside and towards the stairs. She’d never heard Fallon defend anyone like that before - not that vehemently. Even the people that Kirby was unsure of, that Fallon had trust in, usually only were given a quick ‘they’re fine, I vetted them’ sort of testimony before the subject was changed.

Did she stand up for Kirby like that when she wasn’t around?

If she  _ did  _ stand up for Kirby the same way, what sort of intimate relationship did that mean Scarlett had with her? She didn’t want to act spoiled, but it was hard to wrap her head around the idea that she wasn’t the only top priority of Fallon’s.

Her reflection seemed unrecognizable, again, especially in the low lighting of the bathroom. She hadn’t felt so paranoid since Alice’s death, when it had felt like the entire world - except for maybe Fallon - was looking for a reason to throw her to the wolves. Somehow this felt even worse - even without the world turning against her, not having Fallon ready at the cannons to be there for her was much, much scarier.

She thought for a moment about her pills, tucked away safely back at the house, and closed her eyes as she gripped the edge of the sink. She’d make it through dinner ( _ without  _ mentioning Scarlett again), they’d finish their champagne, and then they’d be back home before they knew it. 

All of these anxious, paranoid thoughts would be much easier to face in the morning, after she’d slept on it.


	21. Chapter 21

The weeks between their awkward dinner encounter and the beginning of the on-location shoot passed by uneventfully, if not tensely. Fallon found herself mentioning work less and less often around the house, not sure what the next casual detail to set her girlfriend off into a jealous fit would be, and despite her own annoyance at how their dinner had gone, she did find herself slowly softening as the date for her departure loomed closer.

They weren’t necessarily back in any sort of honeymoon phase, but the actress did bring her coffee in bed on the mornings that she was up before Fallon was, and she found herself making time to sit together watching the evening news, or coming home during her lunch hour so they had a little time together. Regardless of the tension that still needed to be addressed, she knew she was going to miss her while she was away filming.

Whatever resentment that Kirby had been harbouring seemed to fade, as well. Any uncomfortable defensiveness was replaced with giddy nervousness - Fallon could almost always feel the excitement radiating off of her whenever she was nearby while anyone asked her about the upcoming work. 

Despite the relatively quick work that production had made of organizing everything for Kirby, her new phone still didn’t arrive until the day before, so on a rare shared afternoon off together, Fallon milled around their bedroom, tidying the after-effects of Kirby’s messy packing attempts while the redhead set up her new SIM card.

“I guess I don’t really need to put _every_ contact in this phone, right?” Kirby held the new phone up thoughtfully, glancing over as Fallon lifted up two separate dresses to compare them.

“Probably not. Are you taking the green or the blue?”

Kirby glanced over at the dresses, squinting in concentration for a moment, then pointed. “Green. I’ve never had an iPhone before, do you think I’m going to get addicted?”

Fallon found herself almost making a sarcastic comment, but bit her tongue. They’d been doing well - no point poking the bear.

“Maybe. This box is ready.”

Sitting up from the bed and tucking both phones into her pockets, Kirby came over to haul the box of clothing that Fallon had finished packing into her arms.

“I’ll take this downstairs. D’you think you can grab the laptop charger out of my side table, please?”

Fallon stood on her toes to meet her girlfriend’s eye, barely visible over the box, and nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.”

“We really need to turn the air conditioning on,” Kirby sighed, messily shrugging out of her sweater and letting it fall to the ground as she headed out of the room and down the hall.

Pulling the charger from the side table and then glancing over at the abandoned article of clothing, Fallon rolled her eyes and made her way over to it, swiping it up from the floor.

The pill bottle slid from the shallow cardigan pocket and dropped to the floor, rolling a couple of feet before slowing to a stop and rocking on its side. Leaning down to scoop it up with a sigh, Fallon frowned and realized that it was definitely a little more empty than the last time she’d taken a look at it, but chalked it up to Kirby’s growing anxiousness about her trip, and turned to head back to the en suite bathroom.

If she was stressed it was probably at least a little serious - especially if she was carrying the bottle around again instead of leaving it in at home in the medicine cabinet - but Fallon _had_ been working on the whole trust thing, especially as of late, and didn’t want to rock the boat.

Tugging open the mirrored medicine cabinet, she reached out to set the bottle back in its spot, only to find that it was still there.

Momentarily convinced that her eyes were deceiving her, Fallon glanced down at the bottle in her hand, and then at the one on the shelf in front of her, before pulling it down as well and comparing the two. She noticed her error quickly - the bottle from the shelf hadn’t been touched, not since she’d put it there and had begun keeping an eye on its contents - the one she’d picked up from Kirby’s sweater was much newer. The label wasn’t worn, and the date of the prescription fill was much more recent. On top of everything, it was much emptier than it should have been - the one-per-day-as-needed instruction seemed to mock her as she shook the contents around. There couldn’t have been more than 20 of the original 90 pills left in the bottle, but the prescription was only a month old.

“Did you find it?” She heard Kirby call from the bottom of the stairs, snapping her out of her thoughts. Taking a moment to decide exactly what she wanted to do, Fallon clutched both bottles in one hand, then grabbed the charger from the bed on her way out.

“Here,” she barely made it down the last couple steps, holding the cord out for the redhead to take and pack away in the top of her suitcase.

“Tha-anks…” her voice trailed off as she stood back up and glanced at Fallon’s other hand, her eyes training on the bottles. “What are you doing?”

“We need to talk. Do you want to sit down?”

“No,” Kirby snapped, defensive before Fallon even had the chance to say another word. “Are you going through my stuff? Give me those.”

Fallon stepped back a little as Kirby stepped forward, keeping the space between them as she held one finger up in warning.

“Stop it. Listen to me.”

“What the fuck could you possibly have to say?” Kirby snapped back, though this time she stayed in her spot. “I can’t believe you would - I don’t have any privacy in my own fucking house. God, I was so worried about what was going to happen when I went to Germany, and…” The redhead trailed off, turning to fight with the zipper of her suitcase for a moment before continuing. “At least I’ll finally be able to fucking sneeze without you knowing about it, it’s just weird that I have to be nine thousand miles away for that to finally happen.”

“Are you kidding?” Fallon laughed humorlessly, clenching both bottles in her fist. “How are you supposed to survive without me reminding you to roll over once every twelve hours?”

It was much meaner than she’d meant to be, but Kirby had pulled it out of her.

“Yeah? Is that why you were so insistent on being involved in me picking a place to stay? You probably have it all set up to keep an eye on me there, too.”

“Oh my god, Kirby, do you hear yourself? You sound _insane_.”

“Only because _you_ made me!” Kirby gestured wildly at her, before swiping one of the bottles while Fallon wasn’t holding on as tightly. “You’re not my mother, you’re supposed to be my girlfriend.”

“So _let me be,”_ Fallon hissed, pressing one hand to her forehead in exasperation before dropping it and wrapping her arm across her chest, instead. “This is insane. Is this why you’ve been acting so fucking weird?” She shook the remaining bottle in her hand, raising an eyebrow.

“ _I_ am not acting weird,” Kirby replied, chuckling almost darkly. “I’ve been fine - or I _would_ be if you weren’t putting so much pressure on me all the time.”

“What _pressure?_ ” Fallon crowed, tilting her head back and laughing a single, sharp _‘ha’_ to send the point home. “Oh my _god,_ you’ve been unemployed for _how_ long?”

“Wow.” Kirby crossed her arms, clicking her tongue once and nodding slowly. “How long have you been hanging onto that one?”

“Kirby -”

“No,” She shook her head. “Nuh-uh.”

“When was the last time you took one of these?” Fallon held the remaining bottle up, and Kirby dropped her gaze.

“You’re not my doctor. It’s actually none of your business.”

“ _How_ is this not my business?” Fallon asked, desperately trying to soften her own tone. The less aggressive she got, however, the more Kirby did, like she was trying to fill the space.

“Oh, give it a rest. I don’t need you babysitting me - you didn’t even know I was still taking them and you seemed pretty happy with me before you found out.”

“No, I wasn’t,” Fallon said, dipping her head to try to catch her gaze again. “I don’t - I knew something was wrong, but you kept saying it was just the shoot, and every time I try to ask you what’s going on with you, you shut me out.”

“Because you do _this_ !” Kirby exclaimed, suddenly much louder. Fallon found herself wincing back before she could stop herself. “Oh my god, are you _so_ lacking self-awareness that you have no idea how often I feel like I’m walking on eggshells around you?”

Fallon opened her mouth to respond - to tell her that she felt _exactly_ the same - but Kirby stopped her.

“Y’know, most people work really hard so that they don’t _have_ to work hard. I get that you were born into a nursery the size of _my_ childhood home, but some of us actually had to struggle to get to all of this.” She gestured around them, to the house itself, and then sighed. “I get that you have this whole… power-hungry, be-the-best thing, and honestly it’s one of the things I love about you, but I can’t have you constantly breathing down my neck about _what’s next_ because I want to take a second to actually enjoy what I’ve worked for.”

“No one’s saying you can’t -”

“Shut up,” Kirby cut her off, her voice surprisingly light. Fallon’s eyebrows shot up, stunned into silence for a moment. “I can’t tell you anything. I can’t have friends over for a drink on a day off, or take my time picking my next project - oh my god, if I had even told you how many times I tried to sit down and watch that fucking Alice documentary, you’d have had me committed.”

“You told me you weren’t upset about Alice,” Fallon pointed out. “Not anymore.”

“Of _course_ I’m still upset about Alice, Fallon, she was my fucking friend.” Kirby shoved her pill bottle into her jeans pocket and buried both hands in her hair, laughing to herself. “The only moment I _had_ to stop and miss her and think about her was _before_ you and I even got together - do you know how weird it is to still not be able to hear her voice when I’m out in public, because I had to cut the grieving and the therapy short for the sake of _your_ ego?”

Not needing to be told to shut up this time, Fallon stood in stunned silence before looking down at the remaining pill bottle in her hands.

“I don’t think I can - I don’t think I’m ready to handle _your_ reaction to all of that,” Kirby sighed. “It honestly feels like you don’t want me to do any better, sometimes. Like you have better footing in this entire relationship when you’re acting like my handler.”

“That isn’t true,” Fallon insisted, stepping closer.

“I’m - I’m going to see my friends, for a bit. It being my last night here and all, at least for a while.”

“You should stay here, so we can talk.” Fallon rolled the bottle between her palms.

“I don’t want to talk, Fallon. Not to you, not right now.” Kirby’s words practically came out as a whine - tired and heavy. “I’m so tired. All the time. You don’t let me come to you without judgment and you don’t want me to get help elsewhere. I don’t understand what you’re expecting me to do.”

Her defeated tone made Fallon want to grab her and pull her in, or lead her off to the couch to tuck her in with a throw blanket and a glass of wine, forgetting her own frustration. She _had_ asked what was going on with her. Constantly, over the last year, she’d tried to check in and see to it that she was keeping her head above the water. It wasn’t her fault that Kirby had been lying the entire time.

Seeming to wait for Fallon to protest, Kirby reached for her purse, and then the door handle, before clearing her throat.

“Okay. I’ll be out late. Don’t wait up.”

“Here,” Fallon held the remaining pill bottle out, but Kirby just glanced at it in disdain.

“No, you can hang onto it. Seems like you could use it, honestly.”

_There_ was the little last-ditch insult that Fallon had been waiting for. It was almost merciful, like Kirby had intentionally thrown it out just to leave the conversation on the tone of angry, or annoyed, instead of exhausted and sad. A fight was something they could easily come back from - they’d had enough arguments before, though not usually as heavy as this one - but fighting was still _easy._ Giving up was something else, and even though her comment had been intentionally rude, it was clear that Kirby wasn’t ready to fall into that last stage yet.

The distance might turn into a breath of fresh air. If Kirby really did feel like Fallon was breathing down her neck - especially when Fallon thought she was giving her enough space, perhaps even too much - then the nine weeks apart would probably help them miss each other, again. With any luck, it would be like when they’d first started to go out, again, waking up alone in their own apartments and being eager to finally get to see one another during the day.

The sound of Kirby’s car in the driveway starting made Fallon look back down at the pills in her hand once more, turning the bottle over before tossing them into the bowl of keys by the door. Grabbing her own purse, Fallon opened the door that Kirby had just exited, to head to the office.


	22. Chapter 22

Kirby startled as she stepped into her house, gasping at the figure waiting for her in the hallway, before realizing that it was only her own reflection in the mirror by the door. Flicking on the light and stepping closer to admire herself, the actress twirled one lock of hair around her finger thoughtfully. It was much darker than the light red that she'd left LA with, but not so dark that it fully washed her out. She’d only had it colored that morning, sitting in a cramped hair trailer with the fumes of the dye burning her eyes, so it made sense that she still wasn't quite used to the sight of it. 

She looked older, actually. It was a flattering color, but it had added years to her, giving off the vibe of someone with much more experience. She looked cooler, and more unapproachable, even - that part, she liked. It was nice to not feel like herself all of the time. A break from who she really was was much-needed.

Her new appearance wasn’t the only thing that was making her feel like a different person, though. The new house - the temporary one - was much smaller than the one she shared with Fallon back in LA, and the entire space was  _ hers.  _ She certainly hadn’t been hard done by for room with Fallon, but the lack of judgment in the air made her feel like she’d been crushed under a rock for the previous year.

On the small side table, Kirby’s phone chirped for attention, drawing her eyes down from her reflection to its screen, instead.

_ [5:06PM] Kaira A: still on for drinks tonight? i wanna see the new hair _

_ READ - [9:33AM] Fallon: alright, let me know when you’re done. _

The reminder that she hadn’t replied to her daily check-in with Fallon set a guilty weight in the bottom of Kirby’s stomach, but she ignored the text once again in favour of replying to Kaira. They’d only met that morning - she was leaving as Kirby was arriving - but she’d latched onto the older actress instantly. Kirby remembered exactly what that was like - she’d basically done the same with Will - and the idea of being someone that someone else truly directly looked up to gave her a much-needed boost of confidence.

It was refreshing to feel like an entirely new person, with new responsibilities, new hair, none of the weird walking-on-eggshells vibes that almost everyone she knew back in LA seemed to have around her. 

_ ‘still on. who else is coming?’ _

She set her phone down as she sent the reply, hanging her purse on the hook near the mirror before digging into it for her shooting schedule for the upcoming week. She’d only been in town for a couple of days - barely enough time to get settled or unpacked - which was much less time than most of her costars had had to prepare, but she felt ready and clear-minded. 

The first week was all business, and she couldn’t wait to start. Even the early call-times seemed reasonable to her, now - the boredom of unemployment had seriously done a number on her. The idea of getting to do it without the distraction of Fallon breathing down her neck about every decision - creative or otherwise - that she made had put a rosy sort of tint on the entire concept of a rigorous schedule. 

Kaira texting back pulled her from her thoughts.

_ [5:10PM] Kaira A: me, you, allison from makeup, jackson _

_ [5:10PM] Kaira A: nothing crazy _

Kirby recognized Jackson’s name from the call sheet - not to mention his previous work she’d seen, and Allison, who had been frantically texted to come and ‘work some magic’ in getting some of the deep chocolate brown hair dye off of Kirby’s skin before it had a chance to stain during her hair coloring appointment. 

Had her asking who was invited made it sound like she expected exclusivity?

Her fingers twitched as if moving on their own to reach for her pill bottle, buried in the bottom of her purse, but she stopped herself, looking up at her reflection again and shaking her hair back from her face. It didn’t matter how she sounded over text, because she was fine in person. Kaira obviously liked her, anyway - she wouldn’t have invited her, otherwise.

Like some divine sign from the universe, her phone chirped again, letting her know that Fallon had sent her another message.

_ [5:12PM] Fallon: don’t forget to forward jeff the shooting schedule once you have it. _

Sighing and finally opening the message thread, Kirby quickly typed back her response.

_ ‘thanks. home now btw.’ _

  
Fallon’s ‘typing’ bubble appeared and then disappeared. Giving it a moment, Kirby realized no extra response was coming and locked the screen, then wandered towards her bedroom to touch up her makeup for her night out. It was a  _ little  _ weird that Fallon hadn’t asked how the day had gone or wanted to know how her new hair color looked, but Kirby ignored the thought to focus on the night ahead of her.

* * *

The pub that they ended up at reminded Kirby of the ones back in Australia. A far cry from the overly-sleek edgy bars that she often ended up at in LA, this one - with a German name that Kirby didn’t even bother trying to figure out - was cozy, with worn furniture and low lighting and two roughed-up pool tables tucked into the back area. 

“This is cute.” Jackson practically appeared behind Kirby, making her jump. His tone wasn’t condescending, but it certainly wasn’t self-aware, either. “Very… Ralph Lauren, European-cottage-grunge-core.”

“I don’t think that makes any sense,” Kirby told him, glancing back over her shoulder with a smirk. 

Holding her shoulders to step around her, Jackson shrugged, smiling easily, and headed toward the table that Kaira had already claimed for their group. She’d run into him outside, smoking - or rather, vaping ( _ “It’s much better for your throat.” _ ) - and had recognized him immediately. He was shorter in person than she’d been expecting, but his confidence alone made him seem much bigger. It was almost tempting to ask for an autograph - Kirby knew that more than one of her friends back home and even in LA would have been excited about it - but she kept her cool, choosing professional aloofness instead.

“Find the place alright?” Kaira asked as Kirby tugged out the chair across from her and tucked her bag into it. 

“Yeah,” she breathed, glancing around one more time. She was relieved to see that there were only a few other patrons around — it would help minimize the number of people to embarrass herself in front of if she ended up needing to apply any of her admittedly poorly practiced German. 

“Where's Allison?” Jackson asked.

“On the way. She found some store she wanted to check out and said she had to stop. I like the hair, by the way.” Kaira turned her attention to Kirby, jutting her chin out in gesture as she took a sip from her own drink.

Resisting the urge to touch her hair in response, Kirby feigned a small bow of gratitude, stepping around her seat.

“I’m getting a beer. You?” She glanced at Jackson, but he shook his head.

“No thanks.”

Confused, but not planning to push it, Kirby shrugged it off and headed to the bar counter. Her accent made her mispronunciations even choppier than she’d been anticipating, but the barkeep was patient, laughing well-meaningly when their conversation turned more into a game of charades, with him holding up various sized glasses, and Kirby pointing at the different taps while he made faces to indicate which ones he assumed she wouldn’t like.

Returning to her table with her  _ schwarzbier _ , Kirby made herself comfortable and tried to catch up to the conversation she’d walked into.

“No, no, I totally agree. Allison seems cool. Maybe a kiss-ass, but it’s too early to tell.” Jackson focused on the napkin that he was folding as he spoke, only glancing up at Kirby when Kaira disagreed.

“She’s  _ nice _ . I would be too, if I  _ just  _ started union work.”

“Kirby, settle an argument -”

“- Not an argument,” Kaira interjected.

“- Settle a friendly, super-chill disagreement.” Jackson pushed aside the napkin, reaching for another. 

“I’m listening,” Kirby replied, taking a sip from her beer to buy herself some time.

“You met Allison today, right? Yes man, or nice person?”

Swallowing hard, Kirby set her glass down and unfolded the napkin that Jackson had clearly grown bored of, wiping the condensation from her hands slowly before answering.

“She seems nice. Helpful. I haven’t had a bad makeup artist, though.”

“ _ Yet,”  _ Kaira added helpfully.

“Right.” Jackson rolled the new napkin into a cigar shape absentmindedly. “But she won’t be with you, anyway.”

Cocking her head to the side, Kirby scratched at the back of her neck in confusion in lieu of asking for clarification.

“She’s brand new. Hasn’t paid her dues yet? They’re not putting her with anyone principal.” Jackson’s words had a know-it-all vibe to them, but the smile didn’t leave his face.

“Oh. Either way, I like her.”

Jackson dropped her gaze, now properly shot down by both women, before hopping up. 

“I’m going to get a water. Another?” He turned to Kaira, pointing to her almost-empty glass, and she nodded quickly in response.

“Yes, please!” Any hint of discomfort at their differing opinions had vanished.

Kirby and Kaira fell into a comfortable lull of conversation, drinking quietly. Kaira seemed considerably more confident than Kirby had when she’d first started working - maybe even a little jaded. It made her feel almost unequipped to be any sort of ‘older sister’ type for her, but after a momentary mental inventory of the group she was out with, she came to the realization that she was only one with  _ Oscar  _ nominations under her belt. If the rest of the cast were going to behave as though being ‘established’ was code for ‘more important than anyone else in the room’, Kirby would have that contest handled with her hands tied.

  
Her reflection in a mounted metal decorative plate on the wall reminded her again of just how different she looked - it really  _ was  _ responsible for making her feel like a new person.

* * *

Kirby woke up ten minutes before her alarm, too excited to sleep.

Her first day back on set felt like it had taken forever to arrive, and now that it had, she jumped out of bed, fueled by adrenaline.

She was early for her call-time, but got herself settled regardless, scrolling through her missed texts from the night before, pausing on one from Fallon.

_ [8:13PM] Fallon: Try to get an early night. Miss you. _

She had to have sent it on her lunch break. Rolling her neck as if preparing for a physical throwdown, Kirby pulled up her keyboard to type her reply.

_ “stayed in with takeout. at work now.” _

It was a lie - at least the first half had been - but no one had ‘spotted’ Kaira showing up at Kirby’s house the night before with a bottle of wine and her dog-eared, sticky-note covered script to run lines, so Kirby figured it would be a safe one.

Fallon replied almost instantly.

_ [6:58AM] Fallon: Getting ready to give up on this and go to bed. _

She attached a slightly blurry photo of some incomprehensible paperwork spread out on the glass table of their dining room. Kirby felt an uncomfortable tug in her chest, picturing Fallon alone in their too-big house by herself, but shook it off, not wanting anything to throw off her day.

_ ‘your turn for an early night.’ _

It was half-playful; an olive branch instead of a real apology for how out of sync their contact had been ever since Kirby had left.

When she’d first decided to try for the role, Kirby had pictured the long-distance of her working to look a lot more like late-night phone calls with her girlfriend back in LA, and being unable to enjoy the independence without missing her too much - even before their pre-trip fight. The stifled, uncomfortable refusal to acknowledge the elephant in the room that both women had taken up was easily blamed on the nine-hour time difference, though. 

Her makeup artist appeared out of nowhere, almost startling her into dropping her phone. He quickly held up a small case before even introducing himself.

“You worn contacts before?”

“Once or twice, for Halloween,” Kirby replied, still trying to calm her heart rate.

“Perfect. These are for you - that fucking opthalmologist  _ mailed  _ them after inspection. Worst part is, the office was in fucking North Hollywood. I could have walked over and gotten them sooner, but  _ no _ , he wanted them sent  _ straight  _ to set.”

Kirby reached out and took the case, glancing up at him questioningly before popping it open and peering at the lenses inside. They matched her own brown eyes perfectly - save for the pupils, which were slits, instead of circles.

“These are so creepy.”

“Sick, right? Hand-painted, too.” The man held his hand out, as Kirby closed the box and set it aside on the vanity countertop. “I’m Nick. I’m gonna do your makeup.”

“Kirby,” she replied, shaking his hand and chuckling at his irregular greeting.

“You’re the first one here, huh?” Nick glanced around, as if the small trailer was able to hide any stowed away cast members. “I dig the enthusiasm. You want me to get you a coffee, or anything?”

Before she could respond, a muffled call of  _ ‘stepping up!’  _ came from outside of the door, before the door swung open and three women that Kirby didn’t recognize poured inside.

“Morning, ladies!” Nick barely looked up from his station, pulling out bottles of skincare products and primers and foundations to spread across the space. They replied in staggered generic response before Nick cleared his throat again. “This is Kirby.”

“Hi!” The woman closest to her greeted enthusiastically, shooting her a quick smile before turning to set the two coffees in her hand on what Kirby assumed was her own counter space.

“Did you say you wanted a coffee?” Nick asked again, snapping her attention back to him in the mirror. 

“She can have mine,” one of the other women who had come in with the group replied, suddenly holding it out for her. “I changed my mind, anyway.”

“No, thank you, I’m okay.” The idea of any additional caffeine in her system made Kirby feel preemptively shaky. The energy in the small space had more than doubled in the last few minutes alone, and while it only made Kirby feel more excited for the day ahead, she knew not to go overboard.

Jackson arrived next, nudging the door open and stepping inside, shucking his wet coat off and hanging it near the storage cabinet.

“I knew it was going to start raining,” he announced, flopping down into his own chair, a few stations away from Kirby.

“Hair’ll be in right away for this.” The woman who had said ‘hello’ to Kirby earlier ran her fingers experimentally through the tips of Jackson’s hair, which despite the critique still appeared perfectly but effortlessly styled.

Gently tilting her chin to turn her to face him, Nick smiled when Kirby caught his eye and started gently wiping down her skin with a small cotton round. The scent of fresh seaweed and something vaguely minty filled her senses, and she closed her eyes reflexively.

“Did you just get here?”

“A few days ago,” Kirby replied, trying to keep still as she answered.

“I heard you were sort of last minute, but hey, you beat everyone else here on day one, so you should be fine.”

Chuckling at the compliment, Kirby peeked one eye open and then the other when the cotton round left her skin, only vaguely listening to Jackson’s complaining nearby.

_ “I know that I said coffee when I texted last night, but I have a serious tension headache, and Mercury retrograde plus me plus caffeine is like, a no-go.” _

_ “I’ll get a PA to bring you a coconut water, don’t worry about it. Pulp or no pulp?” _

The way Nick had been so confident and loud with Kirby the moment that he’d walked in, and then seemed to soften in response to  _ her  _ softness made her think that he may have been expecting to be met with some kind of resistance before their introduction. 

_ Splintered Men  _ had been a very small cast, and most of them were wise and mature beyond Kirby’s expectations -  _ The Last Fire  _ had been full of many more fresh faces; people like Kirby just beginning to step out of the gate of ‘established’ and into more frequent work. To be surrounded now by so many veterans - high-energy veterans, at that - made her feel like she was being too quiet.

She kept that thought to herself, though (and the irony wasn’t lost on her), taking some hand sanitizer and listening intently as Nick walked her through the prosthetic contacts.

* * *

**_ONE WEEK LATER_ **

  
  


The first phone call that Kirby finally placed back to LA was to Jeff Colby, double-checking that he’d received the schedules and extra paperwork she’d emailed to him while laying on her bed with a German talk show muted on her TV set. Jeff wasn’t one of her closer friends, but hearing his voice had been deeply comforting. She hadn’t realized that she’d been missing him, too, until he had answered the phone.

_ “So?”  _ He’d asked, once the business-side of the call was taken care of. “Tell me how you’re doing. How was week one?”

“Fun,” Kirby replied honestly. 

“Yeah?” Jeff’s voice turned teasing. “Making lots of new friends? Remembering to share?”

“Don’t be annoying,” she huffed, but even she could hear the amused smile in her own voice.

“I’m glad it’s going well. You like everyone?”

Kirby thought about the few cast members she’d met that first week. The ensemble was large enough that there were people that Kirby likely wouldn’t meet until much later, if at all, outside of simply crossing each other’s paths on set.

“So far,” she replied. It wasn’t a lie, but it tasted like one on her tongue. She had already fallen into a bit of a routine, spending time with Kaira and Jackson more than anyone else from the shoot, and while they were both fun enough, and nice to her, they weren’t exactly the sort of people she would be spending time with once they ended up back in LA. 

She was rocking back and forth on the fence of finding their confidence and bossiness cool, or annoying, her opinion of their boldness varying from her mood at any given moment on a day-to-day basis.

“Good. You know you can always call me if you need anything. Fallon too - that’s probably your first choice, but I  _ am  _ here.”

“I appreciate it, Jeff, thank you.”

She hung up and stared at the screen for a long moment, before double-checking the time and then pulling up Fallon’s contact page.

_ “This is Fallon Carrington, leave a message and keep it short.” _

Pulling the phone away and frowning at the screen as if it were personally responsible for the lack of an answer, Kirby locked the phone and clutched it in both hands. It was very unlike Fallon to let her phone die, and even more unlikely that she would turn it off. It would have only been about two in the afternoon for her, which meant that she was definitely up and about.

_ ‘hey, did your phone die?’  _

She barely registered that she’d even sent the text before it appeared in their message thread. She waited for a few moments, staring at the screen as if really expecting the other woman to reply when she didn’t even pick up the phone. Defeatedly, she set it aside on her nightstand with a soft groan.

It was probably the fault of her own bad karma - she hadn’t been putting the effort into keeping in touch with Fallon, and now that she’d finally reached out, she wasn’t available. 

Stifling a yawn, Kirby slid off of the edge of the bed and padded down the hall and into the bathroom. She wasn’t needed on set the next day, and had hoped to stay up until the early hours of the morning reviewing for when she was next filming, but the first rigorous week had changed her sleep schedule from moldable clay into concrete. It was already eleven PM - much later than she normally stayed up, and her eyes felt sore and tired from her attempts at keeping her mind busy by watching television. 

After a quick shower to wash off the week and the thought of Fallon not responding, she tucked herself into bed and fitfully tried to get comfortable. For the first time since she’d left, she found it difficult to fall asleep alone.

* * *

Fallon still hadn’t returned her call by the time she headed into work in the early afternoon two days later, but she had texted back to let her know she’d had her phone off during a meeting for another client. She’d cited that the interviewer she was setting them up with was notoriously short-tempered, and a phone vibrating - even if it went ignored - was enough to irritate them. 

Kirby was tempted to ask which client was so important that Fallon would allow herself to be bossed around by a  _ journalist  _ for their sake, but knew that if the answer was Scarlett and not Will, she would be cranky for the rest of the day. She certainly didn’t expect Fallon to stop doing her job just because Kirby was busy doing her own, but she’d forgotten about Scarlett as soon as she’d left for Germany, and remembering that her and Fallon’s professional relationship was carrying on in her long-distance absence made her skin crawl. 

After assuring the other woman she was only checking in and the call and message hadn’t been urgent, Kirby put the entire incident aside and tried to focus on getting into the zone for her coverage that day. After a quick trip to wardrobe, she headed to the makeup trailers, only stopping for a coffee. Caffeine-fueled anxiety be damned - she had the second-week tiredness setting in that needed to be fended off with a cup of organic fair trade iced Nicaraguan coffee with vegan milled sugar and ethically harvested oat milk.

The makeup trailer was always a hub of energy even in the early mornings, but now that she was arriving later in the day and everyone seemed to have fully ‘woken up’, it was even more chaotic than usual. 

Jackson was mid-rant about the differences between kombucha before and after it suddenly became mainstream trendy a few years prior. Kaira was nowhere to be seen, but two more cast members that Kirby hadn’t met yet were seated on either side of her own station. She took her seat wordlessly, and when neither of them introduced themselves, it felt too awkward to be the one to break the ice. 

“What’s… eye blood?” Kirby eyed the bottles on the station countertop, peeking up at Nick as he wrapped a protective cape around her clothing.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” he assured her, before pulling out his phone and swiping through his photos momentarily. A picture of another cast member that Kirby vaguely recognized lit up the screen, looking realistically as if she had blown a blood vessel in her eye.

“Nick, that’s disgusting.”

“Thank you!” Nick beamed proudly, setting the phone down and starting to pump up the height on her seat. “This is you, today. What do you think?”

Kirby reached for her contacts case, glancing over at the face chart that Nick produced. 

It was a little surreal looking, with her digitally-rendered face having been photoshopped into a smoother version of the character she turned into each time she left the trailer. Across her cheek, trailing up into her hairline on her temple, was a fresh-looking cut, bright red blood shining starkly against her skin.

“Yeah,” she handed it back, smiling. “Let’s do it.”

“Are you excited for today?” Nick asked, offering her a small bottle of saline drops once she successfully blinked the contacts into place. When she looked up at him in question, he raised his eyebrows, clarifying: “The scene? With Constance?”

Right. Constance Warlick. The middle-aged actress who had personally boosted the average star power of the cast to almost double what it would have been without her involved - but Kirby only had the one single scene with her for the entire film. She hadn’t thought much of it until she noticed the way that the people nearest to her in the trailer had quieted, waiting for an answer as well.

“Yeah. It should be really good.”

The room seemed to exhale, everyone else going back to their own business when they realized that she wasn’t going to say anything much more interesting than that. 

“I worked with her on  _ Broken Bridges _ a few years ago, she’s incredible. I mean, I’m a little biased, but she’s a very sweet woman.” Seeming to sense Kirby’s own growing anxiousness, Nick reassured her as smoothly as possible, softly grasping the arm of the chair and tilting her back slowly to face the ceiling.

“I hope I make a good impression so she doesn’t slap me for real,” Kirby joked, referring to what their scene for the afternoon entailed. It was hard to lighten her own mood, though. Nick turned to pull out a drawer from a container on top of his station, digging around and retrieving the gelatin base for her ‘injury’. 

Deciding on the spot, Kirby sat upright and leaned out of the seat, digging into her purse and pulling her pill bottle out as discreetly as possible. If anyone noticed, they didn’t seem to care, and she washed one down with her bottle of water before letting herself have any second thoughts.

Leaning back in her seat again so that Nick could begin stippling glue on her cheek, Kirby closed her eyes and let the sounds of chatter from the other actors and artists, the growling of hairdryers being turned on and off, and the music from the iPod docked across the trailer turn into one solid wall of white noise.

She could sense movement around her, then heard Jackson’s voice much closer to her than he’d been when she’d closed her eyes.

“Wow. I didn’t think you could make her uglier. You’re a god, dude.”

It was a compliment but Kirby could still hear the bored disinterest in Nick’s tone as he replied, “Thanks.”

Blindly reaching out and swatting around at where she’d heard Jackson, Kirby froze when she felt Nick’s brush hit her jaw instead of the weird phantom feeling of him painting the prosthetic on her cheek.

“Sorry,” she winced, peeking one eye open as Nick reached for a cotton swab to clean up the mistake.

“Not a problem,” he replied, without a hint of exasperation in his tone. Kirby’s next apology died in her throat when met with his unbothered patience.

It was such a small, simple interaction, but it made her feel drunk with unearned power. She thought about Jackson not bothering with an umbrella in the rain or changing his morning drink order at the last second without a hint of consideration for the other people working around him. 

She didn’t  _ have  _ that sort of influence over other people, though. People didn’t bend over backward for her. Alice had had that sort of power, always getting exactly what she wanted, and never hearing ‘no’. Fallon had taken that power for herself, too.

The more she thought about it, though, the more little details came to mind.

The receptionist just  _ allowing  _ her to go up to Fallon’s old condo without asking any questions. Cristal not giving her trouble for drinking at work. One of the women from the hair team just offering Kirby her own coffee at the slightest hint of suggestion that she might want one.

She’d definitely grown in recognizability - extremely quickly, after the release of  _ Splintered Men, _ and it had only increased as she continued to work - but never before had she properly recognized that with that recognizability came respect, or, even more powerfully, a need to impress her. She’d spent so much time alone with Fallon, or her other familiar friends and coworkers, over the last year that she hadn’t been around enough new strangers to see it.

The song on the playlist ended and changed as Nick finished his clean-up job and continued to paint the fake wound on her cheek, and Kirby’s eyes snapped open as she instantly recognized Alice’s voice.

_ A test,  _ the voice in the back of her mind insisted.

“Can they change the music?” Kirby asked, her voice coming out much softer than she’d intended.

“What was that?” Nick asked, leaning back from her to blink in confusion.

Sitting up, Kirby cleared her throat, drawing attention from a few of the other artists.

“Change the song?” She repeated, and then, when no one moved, a much more stern demand of, “ _ Someone change the song, or turn it off.” _

Everyone moved jerkily at once, and the hairstylist standing closest the speaker dock all but ripped the iPod off of the charger. The music cut out quickly, and the room was painfully silent as she fumbled with it before returning it to its spot, beginning a new song instead.

Nick only smiled innocently at her as she sunk back into her seat, continuing his work where he’d left off without batting an eye or seeming even slightly unnerved by her bossiness.

She clearly wielded at least a little more power than she’d realized.

She wasn’t going to be like Jackson, though, or even Kaira, using it so often that she became a chore or an annoyance. Still, she’d been through enough - a little respect felt well-earned.

  
And she  _ did  _ have a lot of time to make up for.


	23. Chapter 23

Fallon poked listlessly at the wilting leftover salad on her desk, considering getting up to return it to her fridge under the pretense that she would get back to it later. She’d blamed her lack of appetite over the last few days on feeling under the weather with allergies, but she was always fine when she was thrown into her work and properly distracted from thinking about her own personal stress. 

On the computer screen before her, a photo of Kirby out with some co-stars and another woman that Fallon didn't recognize - she was only listed as 'and unknown friend' in the caption - underneath the headline:  _ PETAL'S EDGE CAST OUT ON THE TOWN _ . The photos and articles had been becoming increasingly more frequent, but Fallon's email inbox had remained dry of any mentions of them, either before or after. Jeff offhandedly told her in passing that production's own PR team was keeping a close eye on everything, and that instead of stressing herself sick she should have been enjoying the impromptu time off. Still, it felt like she was being left out - and she couldn't figure out if she felt that way from the position of girlfriend or publicist. 

With Will skipping the Oscar trail for the year, focusing more on the lead-in to his passion project, Fallon was left with a gap in her schedule that Scarlett had been more than happy to fill when she wasn't working ahead on Kirby's awards campaign. Scarlett did make Fallon's life at least a little simpler, though, being perfectly moldable and eagerly interested in any opportunities that Fallon could find for her. The only restrictions were the studio and even Genie herself on occasion, but otherwise, Scarlett was the easiest thing about her professional life at the moment. In fact, her meeting with the actress that was about to start was one of the only reasons she'd even bothered with lunch - the day had been going well until she'd seen the newest article about Kirby, and the distance between them only made her nerves worse. She'd handled what she'd always assumed was Kirby's worst with difficulty when they were right next to each other in LA, and even though she hadn't given her any serious reason to worry lately, having her too far away to watch her closely was beginning to cost her sleep.

If they hadn't left things so tensely, it may not have been as worrisome, but their fight before Kirby had taken off had driven a wedge between them and now Fallon was forced to rely on semi-daily check-ins through a quick text, and outside media's look in on her life to make sure she was staying safe and making good choices. If she hadn't mentioned the new pills, maybe they wouldn't have been in this position in the first place.

Scarlett knocking on her office door startled Fallon out of her thoughts, and she quickly rearranged her features into what she hoped would be a bright, convincing smile. 

"If it isn't my favourite scream queen." Fallon pushed her seat back, sweeping her unfinished salad blindly into the trash can before kicking it back under the desk. "You look nice. New dress?"

Scarlett looked down at herself, then beamed at Fallon as she did a quick half-twirl.

"Mhm!" She glanced around as she made her way over to the desk, sinking delicately into one of the seats across from Fallon's. "I love your office - it's so fancy."

Fallon took in her own surroundings as if seeing them for the first time. The building design was her father's choice - it looked like every other office space Fallon had been in in downtown LA. Walls of windows, minimalist furniture, glass surfaces and fake white plants on every surface - she'd changed her own office around slowly but surely with a few pieces to make it her own over the years. The birch and iron desk was her newest addition - something Kirby had picked for her when they'd passed by a streetfront Urban Outfitters on a walk. It wasn't the kind of furniture Fallon would likely ever have picked for herself - nor a store she would have gone into without being dragged along by the overly-excited redhead - but Kirby had been insistent, so she'd gone along with it. It was much smaller than Fallon would have ever picked for a desk - a simple frame with two shelves and a single, smooth piece of pure solid birch. _ 'It's so beachy,'  _ Kirby had insisted.  _ 'How perfect is that? You can have the beach you never go to right in the office with you.' _

$150 and an almost-argument where Kirby was convinced that they should take it to the office and assemble it themselves instead of getting delivery and installation later -  _ Fallon won that round _ \- the piece had become a permanent piece in her office that she'd reworked the rest of the decor around.

"Sorry it's taken so long to invite you up," Fallon replied, getting up from her seat and wandering to her fridge. "D'you want a drink?"

"Just water," Scarlett replied. "Sparkling, if you have."

She tugged the straps of her dress down her shoulders, fanning herself and pressing her fingers to her freshly sun-kissed skin experimentally.

"We have a minute to sit before we head downstairs," Fallon promised, returning to the desk and handing the glass bottle out to her. She leaned against the side of the desk casually, watching her press the cold bottle to her chest and then the side of her neck to cool down. Fallon had to wonder if she was even the slightest bit aware of the constant, authentic sexuality she exuded, or if she was really that innocent. "Did you have anything you wanted to go over before being thrown to the wolves?"

Chuckling breathlessly, Scarlett shook her head and then twisted the cap from the bottle delicately to take a sip.

"Any last-minute tips?"

Fallon rocked against the desk for a moment, pursing her lips in thought.

"I don't know these guys as well as I usually know who we're dealing with." It wasn't like her to reveal a crack in her armor, but she'd been finding it increasingly common with Scarlett. The actress seemed to take it as a sign of sincerity and trustworthiness. "They seemed really accommodating when I was talking to them, though. They're the ones who offered to come down here to talk to you - I think they're more excited than you are."

"Well, no one's more excited than Genie," Scarlett replied with a laugh. "Seriously - you guys can bond over it - at the wrap party? I have a plus one, but I don't really have... anyone to take with me."

"Are you sure?" Fallon quirked an eyebrow.

"Yeah, seriously, everyone I would invite already has their own invitation."

"No," Fallon shook her head, "I mean are you sure that its a good idea for me to be there? Genie and I don't exactly get along, but that doesn't mean I want to wreck her own wrap party for her by lurking around."

Scarlett snorted. 

"Didn't you hear me? This  _ Fangoria  _ deal was it for her. She's basically obsessed with you, now."

Fallon stared in disbelief for a moment, processing. If she'd known it would be that easy, she probably would have put in the work much earlier on. It wasn't that being liked was necessarily her priority, but having people in her pocket was always the key.

"Don't tell her I told you that," Scarlett tacked on, arranging her features into a faux-concerned look before grinning playfully. "I think she's still playing hard to get. I did hear her saying that she thinks you're in the wrong line of work, though."

"Oh yeah?" Fallon smirked, exchanging leaning against her desk for sitting up on the edge of it. "And what, pray tell, should I be doing?"

"Producing," Scarlett replied simply.

"That ship has sailed." Fallon sipped from her own water, shaking her head. Something had snapped in her like a guitar string upon hearing it out loud, though. It was something she'd been considering before making a specialty of the Oscar circuit, though Blake had spent quite a lot of time and energy talking her out of it. She'd been pretty close, for a while, to leaving Carrington PR to try to branch into production until he'd given her her first intensive client-work for an Oscar campaign. After that, she hadn't looked back.

"I'll go with you," Fallon agreed, after a moment. "To the wrap party. I appreciate the invite."

"Yay!" Scarlett clapped quickly, retwisting the lid back onto her bottle as Fallon's phone rang. 

Rounding her desk and picking it up quickly, she listened to the receptionist's message and then turned her attention back to Scarlett.

"They're here. Ready?"

"Yes!" Scarlett leapt to her feet, already halfway to the door before Fallon could retrieve her phone.

She followed the actress as she led the way to the bank of elevators down the hall, glancing sideways at one of the interns standing beside her and waiting. Scarlett stepped into the first elevator that opened, and as Fallon went to follow her, the intern followed suit.

" _ Um _ ," she held an arm out, as if ready to clothesline him into stopping. "I'm with a client. Get the next one."

It was a strategy that Blake had been insistent on - if an elevator ever got stuck in the office, it would be a waste of time waiting for rescue while not being able to discuss anything classified with one's client because of a third body in the space with them.  _ No time spent in the Carrington office was to be wasted. _

As the doors slid closed on the pair of them, Fallon's phone buzzed in her pocket - likely the receptionist reminding her again to come downstairs. Tugging it out to silence it, she hazarded a glance at the screen and froze on the spot.

_ Incoming Call: Liam Ridley _

"Sorry, I need to take this, quickly," she told Scarlett, who simply waved her off, unbothered. "Fallon Carrington."

"Hey, so, any idea why someone from The Hollywood Reporter is calling me about buying all of my unpublished stuff about Alice Alby?"

A wave of heat passed over Fallon followed by an icy coolness, and it took everything in her power not to grab the handrail of the elevator for balance as the stomach-flipping feeling of them dropping down a few floors kicked in almost simultaneously. 

' _ You okay? _ ' Scarlett mouthed at her. The simple gesture brought her back down to shaky, adrenaline-fueled nervousness instead of pre-fainting lightheadedness. She nodded in response, waving one hand dismissively before replying to Liam.

"I need to call Kirby. Have you given them an answer yet?"

" _ No _ ," Liam replied, almost sounding offended for a moment. " _ What am I, stupid? Of course I came to you, first." _

Fallon had never been more relieved for always trying to stay on the good side of her reporters than she was right then.

"Can you come into the office? Say, four o'clock and plan to stay late?" 

There was the sound of Liam shuffling papers for a moment before he sighed defeatedly.

"I'll be there. You owe me commission and takeout dinner."

"You're the best," Fallon replied, genuine relief and appreciation soaking through her tone. She hung up without another word, mentally doing the timezone math before shakily pulling Kirby's number up in her recent contacts. It would have only been about eleven at night where she was, so she was likely at home. Considering that it was coming up on a month apart, Fallon was almost embarrassed by the lack of phone calls in their shared log in her phone, but she didn't have time to focus on their personal life for the time being.

"Hey, seriously, everything alright?" Scarlett asked, real concern on her face and in her voice when Fallon finally turned to her.

She smiled stiffly and flatly in response, nodding once before raising her phone to her ear again.

"Yeah, sorry, just one more call - Kirby! Listen, I just -"

"I'm sorry, I'm out right now and it's really loud," Kirby practically yelled into the receiver. Fallon pulled the phone away from her ear slightly. "I'll call you later."

With that, she hung up, and the elevator felt even more silent than it had before. Shaking the pure shock off of her face and out of her shoulders, Fallon redialed her number, waiting as it rang over and over before going to voicemail.

"Unfuckingbelievable," she breathed, pulling up their text thread instead.

_ 'what the fuck are you doing in a club on a tuesday night? you have to be back on set in 7 hours' _

_ 'we need to talk. now.' _

Both texts were opened and read almost immediately, and Kirby's 'typing' bubble appeared for a moment before vanishing again. 

Gritting her teeth, Fallon quickly typed another text. 

_ 'it's about alice'  _

The 'delivered' status faded to 'read', and then suddenly Fallon's phone was ringing in her hands again.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft 'ding' as she answered Kirby's call.

Gently pressing one hand to Scarlett's back to point her in the right direction, she walked by her side towards the lobby waiting area.

"Fallon Carrington."

"Hilarious," Kirby snapped, the background sounds from their first call suddenly gone. "How fucking dare you think you get to tell me I have to prioritize anything about Alice, right now. Is this serious or some kind of sick joke?"

"Kirby, this is important, Liam Ridley called and -"

" _ No, I wasn't done talking! _ " She was yelling, now, and Fallon had to wonder if she was outside for a cigarette. Was anyone around to hear this fit?  _ "I told you that I dropped everything about Alice before I wanted to. I'm done with her. I'm done talking to people about her. I'm done talking to you about her. Sort it out yourself." _

"I don't even know what it’s about, but you need to listen to me," Fallon insisted, hearing the shake in her own voice but being powerless to stop it. They approached the two men in Fangoria-marked jackets waiting on one of the couches near the massive crystalline windows in the lobby, and Fallon quickly lowered her phone to her shoulder; extended one hand to shake as they stood. "Hi. Fallon Carrington. This is Scarlett Barnes. I'm so sorry, I'll just be a minute," she gestured to her phone, internally kicking herself for her own unprofessionalism, but neither of the men nor Scarlett seemed to mind. 

Raising her phone to her ear, she heard Kirby give her a single, derisive laugh.

"You're with Scarlett?" 

It was both a question and a statement, and she hung up abruptly, almost cutting herself off. Pulling the phone away to stare at it, Fallon let her jaw go slack in confusion before she pulled Liam's name up again and opened their text thread.

'No answer from Kirby.'

He answered back almost instantly.

_ [2:03PM] Liam Ridley: Everything okay? _

Ignoring her hands shaking so hard that she nearly dropped her phone, Fallon typed back: _ 'Fine. We'll sort it out ourselves, don't worry.' _

She locked the screen again, trying desperately to put all thoughts of Kirby, Liam, and Alice out of her mind, focusing her attention on Scarlett sitting and waiting for her on the couch. The actress's brow furrowed in worry as she watched Fallon approach, cocking her head to the side.

"Hey, all good?" One of the reporters asked as Fallon sat down beside Scarlett.

"Oh, yeah," Fallon gestured at her phone dismissively. "I've got another client in Germany, right now. Time differences."

Scarlett chuckled politely, if only to smooth over the uncomfortable tension. It did the trick, and the second of the men began to explain their plans for her interview and article, letting Fallon momentarily zone out. She tucked her phone back into her pocket, but left her hand wrapped around it. Her fingers sought out the buttons and ran over them slowly, trying to fidget her way into being more comfortable, but she knew that she wouldn't feel any less tense or scared until she had more information.

Pulling her phone out one last time, Fallon quickly added Liam to her schedule starting at 4 PM, blocking out a space to not be disturbed from his arrival until the start of the next morning’s workday at the very minimum. 

It was going to be a long night.


	24. Chapter 24

Texting production that she needed a 'mental health day', two hours before she was expected to be on set, the morning after being photographed out with her fellow castmates at a club, was what Kirby considered the official rock bottom of her professional life. As she leaned over her toilet at 4 AM and purged her mistakes from the night before - at least the ones that were in her stomach, not her personal life - Kirby told herself over and over this would be the first and last time that she ever shirked her own responsibilities the way she had. 

Splashing some cold water into her face and then rinsing with mouthwash, Kirby plugged her phone in to charge and stumbled into the kitchen. She definitely still felt a little drunk, but somehow simultaneously hungover - something that could only be properly cured with hair of the dog. Her kitchen was beginning to look a little depressing - she hadn't been spending much time at home anymore, even when she wasn't working. Her fridge contents were relatively bare-bones, but she did still have two bottles of wine and a few slices of pizza that from a food cart the night before that still looked appetizing. 

The pizza reminded her of exactly how much she'd talked about Fallon that night - to anyone who would listen. Despite spending more time with them, she knew that the cast she'd been hanging out with weren't her real friends, and letting herself be so drunkenly vulnerable around them made her feel sick with leftover embarrassment. She'd specifically brought Fallon up (for the hundredth time) as she and Kaira stumbled up to the food cart, spitefully sharing an anecdote about how Fallon refused to let her order delivery pizza to their house anymore since she'd been so adamant about keeping the built-in pizza oven when they'd renovated the kitchen.

After pouring herself a healthy-sized glass of wine to help stave off the incoming headache and also hopefully feel less awful about memories from the night before, Kirby pulled out one of the cold slices of pizza and took a bite. She hadn't gotten that drunk in a long time, and she knew that Fallon wasn't going to be happy with her once she had to face her. Remembering their phone call sent another wave of nervousness over her, and she set both her slice and glass of wine on the counter as she went to retrieve her pills from the bathroom.

Tossing back two and staring at her reflection, Kirby felt the nervousness slip away, replaced with slow-burning anger in the pit of her stomach.  _ Fallon  _ was the one who should have been embarrassed. Kirby hadn't done anything wrong - except maybe not bothered controlling the volume of her reaction. Even excluding how personally upsetting the entire conversation had been, from a professional standpoint it was  _ Fallon's  _ job to handle those things for her.

Thinking about how scared she'd been after that initial phone call, stuck in the middle of a crowd and not entirely in her right mind from drinking, made her feel sick all over again. It was beginning to feel more and more like Fallon's idea of what was in her best interest wasn't accurate at all. She'd been close to panic, and if the frustration and anger hadn't taken over her when she called Fallon back, she probably would have had an anxiety attack in the middle of the club.

She finished her glass of wine before she finished her slice of cold pizza, and poured herself a second, trying to push the anger down and replace it with relaxation. She had the day to herself to heal from her night out. Later, when she felt better, she could call Fallon back to get a better explanation for what had happened.

Her phone chirped from the bathroom to let her know that it was charged enough to use without being plugged in, so Kirby ambled back in to grab it, catching sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her hair had looked so sleek the night before - pulled back into a harsh, tight high pony and smoothed back with product. Her hair team had even snuck in a few pieces of her extensions before she'd left set, switching the look from 'librarian' to 'runway model' effortlessly. All of that had been the night before, though. This morning, with her ponytail and its extensions taken down, her hair had a kink near her scalp and the slicked down areas around her temples seemed crusted with old hair product, frozen in place. It would take a hot shower to fix, but the idea of doing anything except heading back to the couch and settling in with the rest of her wine made Kirby feel like she was going to pass out.

Taking her phone back to the living room and flopping down heavily, Kirby pulled up her text thread with Fallon, trying to prepare herself for what to say.

' _ it's about alice _ '.

That had been the last, tiny rock that had shattered the glass shield of composure Kirby had been keeping for the last month. She could handle the passive-aggressive check-in texts and the constant reminders to be responsible. She could even handle knowing Fallon was probably still upset with her - something they could fix once she got back to LA - but she hadn't felt as manipulated by the other woman since her very first Oscar campaign. She'd read the text and had the knee-jerk reaction to phone her back - Fallon had always known exactly which strings to pull and buttons to press to make Kirby do exactly what she wanted,  _ when _ she wanted, and clearly their years together hadn't softened her enough to make her forget them.

Deciding she'd wait until she was less angry - hopefully - to send anything to Fallon, she clicked back into her contacts and browsed the list boredly. New cast members, a few crew members, and a couple of essential contacts from back in LA slid by as she scrolled until she'd reached the end. There was one contact in particular that was missing, a stark difference between this phone and her American one. Usually hidden at the end of her list was a microphone emoji with no name. The number was completely out of commission, but she'd never been able to delete it from her phone. In therapy, they'd suggested that Kirby write letters as part of her grief process, but she and Alice had never been the type for wordy, drawn-out communication. The most they said to each other was when they were high, unable to filter their thoughts and keep them from spilling out between them. Everything that they ever told each other was a secret - short, bright, firecracker bursts of raw vulnerability.

She hadn't transferred every name into the new phone, though. She'd gone over a month before leaving without feeling like she wanted to reach out to her again, but now she was the only person Kirby really wanted to talk to at all.

Flicking the TV on as a distraction, Kirby hauled up and headed into the kitchen to retrieve her remaining wine before getting comfy once more. A talk show host droned away in German on the screen for a moment, before a shot of the Petal's Edge poster appeared, and Kirby scrambled to put on the English subtitles.

"... already behind on schedule, citing concerns with scheduling for both cast and crew, as well as foreign accommodation issues with the mostly-American cast -"

Frowning, Kirby muted the TV and sipped from the wine bottle itself instead, smacking the remote rhythmically against her thigh while she decided what to do. It wasn't her fault, but she couldn't help but feel a little guilty for skipping out on work during what was clearly some kind of crisis that no one had told her about. Fallon should have been in charge of some kind of faux-statement for her. An Instagram post about feeling sick but being excited to work again, or a tweet about the importance of mental health in a work environment to pull some sympathy for her skip-day. 

She called Jeff, instead.

By the time his phone had finished ringing and finally gone to voicemail, Kirby was vibrating with frustration. It wasn't his job to be on-call for her 24/7, and she knew that. Fallon had a professional obligation to always be around, but Kirby had spent less and less time utilizing her and Fallon's professional relationship since they'd started dating. The line was blurred uncomfortably, not that she'd ever admit it out loud. It had been a concern of Fallon's early on, and Kirby was determined to prove her wrong.

She'd at least finish her wine before making any embarrassing angry phone calls. At the very least, she'd have a good excuse.

While she didn't necessarily enjoy blurring the line between her professional and personal relationship with Fallon, it was reassuring to know that she was there. Embarrassing sometimes, sure, but knowing that the woman she loved was also trying to look out for her career could be comforting, too. Maybe she'd been a little too harsh on her earlier.

The muted television screen in Kirby's peripherals changed to a shot of Will Chevale - a clip from an upcoming special he was doing - and she felt an ache in her heart as she topped up her wine glass. She hadn't added him to her very limited contact list for her new phone, either. He had always known how to make her feel a little less insane - talking to him probably would have been a better emotional bandaid than Fallon was going to be. His advice was always solid, but never tough. Fallon could have probably picked up a few lessons on tact from him; maybe she would now that they were working together.

Remembering that Fallon and Will worked together reminded her of Fallon's other big client of the moment; the other movie star sucking up all of her energy and ultimately paring down what little time she had to spare with Kirby for her own benefit. She didn't believe that Scarlett was who she claimed to be at all. Even Kirby, trying to see the best in others where ever she could - despite  _ sometimes  _ jumping the gun - wasn't that nice. _ No one _ was that nice.

Not to mention how disrespectful it was for Fallon to call her about something so personal while she was with the other actress. Maybe Kirby hadn't been harsh  _ enough _ on her, after all.

Making up her mind and slamming the nearly-empty wine bottle onto the table with a soft 'thud' as it hit the soft cloth table runner, Kirby swigged from her much-fuller glass and dialed Fallon's number. Worst case scenario, she'd leave a message.

She hadn't been expecting the brunette to pick up on the first ring, though.

"Fallon Carrington."

"Will you stop doing that? You have caller ID," Kirby complained instead of a 'hello', before she could stop herself.

Fallon sighed instead of answering.

"I need to be separated from something going on on set," Kirby barrelled forward, sipping her wine again as she waited for an answer.

"What did you do?" Fallon replied, already sounding exhausted.

"I - aren't you listening to me? Seriously, I'm not asking for much - just for you to do your job," she snapped back. She hadn't had so much pent-up anger stewing like this for as long as she could remember. 

"And?" Fallon asked, "Are you doing your job? Because it’s... almost 6 AM and I doubt you're at work."

"You're really just going to assume I'm at home?" 

"Well? Are you?"

It was quiet for a moment before Fallon sighed.

"Kirby, I don't have time for whatever this is. You're a big girl, and Liam and I are really actually busy here, so -"

"You don't have time?" Kirby laughed humorlessly. "You don't have time to do the one thing you're actually on my team for? You're not even going to listen to me?"

Fallon was quiet for a moment, before clearing her throat.

"Okay. Tell me whats going on."

" _ Apparently _ \- and I didn't know about this, because no one fucking tells me  _ anything  _ around here - we're already behind on shooting. I don't know if that even has any effect on my schedule, I can't get ahold of Jeff right now."

"That makes sense," Fallon breathed, "Because it’s nine o'clock at night, here.”

"So why are you still at the office, then?" Kirby snarked back.

"Liam and I are here trying to sort out this Alice Alby thing. Without your cooperation. Thank you again, by the way." Fallon's explanation was a thinly veiled accusation, but she kept going before Kirby could respond. "How does the production slowing down have anything to do with you taking a hangover-day?"

"I don't want to get added to the list of variables that are responsible," Kirby said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Right," Fallon exhaled heavily before Kirby heard the telltale sign of her typing on her computer, long nails clacking away at the keys. "I'll get social to draft something up to post in the morning, alright? In the meantime, a good way to not be blamed is to not be responsible."

Feeling warm anger bubble up in her stomach again, Kirby paused mid-sip from her wine and set the glass down. The glass clinked against the table loudly, and Fallon sighed knowingly into the receiver. Before she could comment on her day-drinking habits, though, Kirby cut her off.

" _ How's Scarlett? _ " She asked.

Fallon didn't reply, continuing to type in the background of the call for a moment before the shuffling sound of her readjusting her phone against her ear.

"Kirby," she started - something resigned in her tone that Kirby had never heard there, before - "You can call me back if you need any more help like this. But let’s reserve this line from here on out."

Picking up the wine bottle to refill the last dregs into her glass, Kirby found herself holding her breath, waiting for Fallon to continue.

"And honestly, professional-to-professional, you should avoid making calls like this while you're drunk. It’s not a good look. I don't know how much of this you'll remember when you're done sleeping off whatever you're doing right now, so maybe write this down. We're on a break. We'll talk about it when you get back to LA."

Feeling her breath catch in her throat, Kirby shook her head as if the other woman was physically there to see her rejecting the idea.

"Are you being s-"

Fallon hung up before she could finish her question, leaving her in stunned silence. 

The morning sun streamed into the living room through the half-pulled blinds, and a distant, quiet chorus of birds greeted the early morning with melodic chirping. All of it seemed mocking - so Kirby stood from the couch and grabbed her remaining bottle of wine, before heading off to bed.


	25. Chapter 25

Poking her head out of her office door and staring down the hall, Fallon squinted at the bank of elevators as the farthest-left one opened, and then gave Liam Ridley a nod in greeting. Waving for him, she tried not to draw any attention to herself - or him - and made an inward sweeping gesture with her arms to signify that he needed to pick up the pace before anyone saw him. Jogging the last couple of steps, Liam slid past Fallon into her office and she shut the door behind him, vacuuming them away from the background office noise of people getting ready to end their day.

"Did you bring everything?"

Swiping a hand through his hardly-disheveled hair, Liam turned to Fallon and slid his messenger bag from his shoulder.

"All of it. Research, interviews, contact information, police reports... everything I drafted and didn't publish, or even send in for review. It's all here." 

He pulled out a thick manila envelope, handing it to her. It was heavier than she'd been anticipating, weighing down her hand and forcing her to tighten her grip before it fell to the floor.

"Just the one envelope?" She asked.

"And my computer," he pointed out, pulling his laptop from the bag, next. "None of this has left my hands - the only person who even read the first draft of my Alice piece was you - and Kirby, I guess - but no one else. When the first clean-up got leaked at work, I took everything I had offline. Not a trace of anything left on the servers at Popnosis."

"You're sure? We need to be ready," Fallon prodded.

"I'm sure. That's why I'm here, isn't it?" Liam asked. "We can go over everything I uncovered last year, and figure out which parts someone else may want to release - seeing as I didn't."

There was almost a hint of bitterness in his words, and Fallon made a mental note to push past her own panic and concern to make room to be gentler with him. Over the last year, he had given up a lot of exclusive, finders-keepers information for her benefit. Morals aside, she was responsible for taking food out of his mouth on more than one occasion by having him dampen down a story and drop it first. 

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," she said.

"Of course," he replied dismissively, waving one hand and then fixing her with a small, stiff smile. He took his laptop over to the small coffee table across the office, sitting down on one of the rarely-used couches and pulling his charger out of his bag.

Outside of the office doors, a few of the other publicists from the floor began to pack up for the day, ready to leave early and start fresh in the morning. Fallon watched out her windowed wall for a moment before snapping the blinds shut and turning back to Liam.

_"Hi, this is Casey from The Hollywood Reporter calling for... Liam Ridley? We're working with a close friend of the late Alice Alby's, and trying to put together a small story - something in memoriam and classy. We're trying to work out some of the details about her last few months. Where she was mentally, creatively... who her outside influences were... you know the drill. It came to our attention that you had some unused information from a previous story that you had worked on and were interested in buying any materials you may have to spare. You can give me a call back, at..."_

Liam glanced up from his computer, tapping the space bar and fixing Fallon with a curious look.

"That was the call. You don't recognize them, do you?"

Fallon shook her head, clearing her throat and then turning to her bar cart behind her desk to make them a drink.

"I don't have any contacts with them, that's really more Jeff's thing - he's mainly involved in the music side of things - at least, outside of managing Kirby."

Liam nodded slowly, processing.

"Well, it's not 'Casey' that I'm worried about, anyway. I know all of Alice's friends - and I've talked to a lot of them. I can start pulling interviews and see if anyone seemed particularly excited about the original piece I was doing. This could be as simple as someone just being upset that they didn't get their fifteen minutes."

Shakily pouring two glasses, Fallon turned around to look at the other man again.

"Did anyone specific stand out to you like that?"

Liam's gaze dropped from her face to the glasses in her hand - he'd clearly been expecting scotch, not the freshly-chilled white wine that she'd put together for them.

"To be honest... a lot of the people I talked to who knew Alice seemed like that. It was really depressing," he admitted. "That was part of the reason why I wanted to talk to Kirby about it. Look I... I know we had different opinions about that, and I'm sorry, but -"

Fallon shook her head, crossing the room and handing him one of the glasses.

"Don't apologize. It's in the past."

"I know," Liam continued, "but regardless of whether I think she handled it poorly, or not, she wasn't trying to get on page six just for having known her. Does she ever... talk about her?"

"Who?" Fallon asked, sitting down on the opposite couch, letting the manila envelope fall into her lap from where it was tucked beneath her arm. "Kirby? About Alice? No."

"Oh," Liam frowned, turning his attention back to his computer. "I just thought..."

"Tell me where to start," Fallon replied, cutting him off smoothly as she set her glass down and moved to open the envelope. Spreading its contents across the remainder of the glass coffee table, she scooted closer to the edge of the couch and began to sort the pages.

Liam glanced around at the table, then hummed thoughtfully.

"Let’s... map this out. Figure out what the story they're going for is, and then go from there."

Sighing to herself, Fallon grabbed her phone and texted the last weak-handed attempt for an assistant they'd given her.

_'Before you take off for the night, bring a whiteboard to my office.'_

“Alright. Let’s do it.”

* * *

Liam and Fallon hadn't gotten much farther than they were when they started by the time Kirby called and Fallon made the split decision to put their personal life on the backburner. Between Scarlett's upcoming wrap on her movie, helping keep Will in the forefront of the public eye, keeping Kirby _out_ of it, and _now_ whatever fresh hell that the ghost of Alice Alby was continuing to raise, Fallon knew that she was minutes from midnight on another full mental collapse. 

"Are you... okay?" Liam asked, staring at her as if she'd grown another head. She reapproached the couch and settled onto it, avoiding his eye.

"Fine. We need to focus on this, right now."

Taking the hint, Liam turned back to the spread of papers and then ate the last remaining spring roll from the mess of their mostly-empty takeout containers. Pursing his lips in thought, he finally spoke:

"Maybe we're going at this from the wrong angle. The story is about the last days, her album, right? Where's the tracklist?"

Handing over the pre-release copy of the CD from under the pile of paper closest to her, Fallon sunk back into the couch further and watched Liam get up to head over to the speaker near the door.

"May I?"

Gesturing vaguely for him to continue, Fallon closed her eyes and let her mind continue to frantically jump from detail to detail. The personal stuff with Kirby would have to wait - she needed to stay focused on the task at hand, for both of their sakes.

"Fire your publicist," Liam spoke suddenly, causing her eyes to snap back open. "Subtle."

Turning around and leaning over the back of the couch, Fallon gave him a confused look before realizing that Liam was reading from the booklet insert of the album.

"What?" Fallon breathed.

"The alternative title for track three. Apparently what it was supposed to be called before their marketing team scrapped it."

So overwhelmed with an emotion she couldn't quite put her finger on, Fallon laughed reflexively, stifling it with one hand and then having to turn away to get herself under control.

"Oh my god," she exhaled, once Liam had started the first track and made his way back to the coffee table. "I kept... trying to justify everything, for so long. 'Kirby cared about her', 'she didn't deserve to go so quickly', 'it wasn't that bad'... but it was."

Liam stared at her, settling into his spot on the floor wordlessly, waiting for her to continue.

"I hated her. She was a manipulative, lying, self-aggrandizing narcissist. And I hated her. And now she's dead."

"Fallon, we don't have to do this right now."

"Yes, we do," she disagreed. "Give me the lyric book."

Practically ripping it from his hand as he handed it over, she flipped it open the song that was playing behind her, scanning the words angrily as they filled her ears.

_‘They think your kindness is so weak, but you don’t give up so easy - you just wanted my attention, you just wanted my affection’._

Grabbing the remote from the table, Fallon hit ‘pause’ and took a deep breath to calm the bubbling anger in her chest.

The writing was pedestrian. The deep, slow sadness to it was so painfully self-congratulatory and faux-emotional. Kirby deserved better. For all of her defensiveness when the singer was still alive, and the sonic wave and ripple that her death had caused across the entirety of Los Angeles, wiping the city into shocked silence, her art was simply a fraud.

"Is every song on here about her?" Fallon asked, after a beat.

"I thought so, when I first read over it," Liam admitted. "Anything stick out that doesn't seem to match up?"

Fallon scanned the next page, rolling her tongue along her teeth in a fidgety, uncomfortable sort of display of both irritation and nerves. She wanted to find an inconsistency. Something - anything - to show her that the album was just a generic foray into experimental sexuality, but there wasn't one. There were verses about seeing the stars for the first time in her life when they slept together. Metaphors about awards feeling light in comparison to the weight in her heart when she thought about her. The last song on the album was an acknowledgment that it was wrong. Fallon flipped the CD back on, skipping to the last track.

_'Our love is like a papercut, I know we're gonna mess it up - I feel the weight pressing on my shoulder'._

It was a love letter, wrapped up into a few tracks and being prepped to shoot to the top of the charts. 

"The whole thing is her," Fallon finally spoke, shutting the music off altogether, and tossing the lyric book and case back onto the coffee table haphazardly. "If they want the story about her album and her last days, it’s a story about Kirby."

"Okay," Liam said slowly, clearly picking up on her building stress, trying to maintain a grounded force in the room. "That's fine. Let’s just... go over the stuff that she and Alice did together."

"I thought we were past this," Fallon groaned, burying her face in both of her hands for a moment before standing up to refill their wine. 

"Fallon, everything is fine," Liam repeated. He stood as she returned with wine, taking his glass and sipping it as he headed back over to the whiteboard and wiped away their previous 'guesses'. "Start at the top. You introduced them pretty early on into your contract, right?"

"Right," Fallon sat up straighter, trying to force herself to think back. "She was still over at Visight at the time - Kori Rucks was managing her personally, and... Jeff Colby from Carrington made the call to her to set it up."

Liam turned back to the board again, scrawling out a quick map: Alice - Kori (at Visight) - Jeff (at Carrington) - Kirby.

"Where are they now?" he gestured with the butt of the whiteboard marker between Jeff and Kori's names. 

"They're both still here. Jeff moved to Visight right before they merged back into Carrington. Kori's retiring this year."

Liam made a couple more comments, then moved to the other side of the board to start a timeline.

"Was this when the public first heard about them?"

Fallon shook her head, but before she could answer, Liam asked another question.

"What'd they do?"

"Just... got drinks. She and I had a meeting first about some... styling details, I think." She closed her eyes to try to remember better without distraction. "I don't know if that’s everything. She lost her phone."

"And never found it?"

"Why are you asking me this?" Fallon asked, eyes popping back open.

Liam shrugged.

"Just trying to paint the whole picture. Seems weird that they just got drinks and no one saw them - but she was messed up enough to lose her phone."

Ignoring the sharp twinge of jealousy that shot through her, Fallon closed her eyes again and took a deep breath.

"I think she spent the night there."

"Alone?"

Fallon shook her head. "I doubt it. I never knew Alice to be alone - not that I knew her that well."

"Okay," Liam nodded, turning to the board and adding, 'spent the night - others(?)' below their first meeting. "What's next?"

"I think she managed to keep her distance," Fallon replied, hearing the hopefulness in her own voice. "We got sort of busy with press until..."

She squeezed her eyes closed again, wracking her brain. The two of them had been attached at the hip for a lot of their friendship, but it hadn't become an annoyance until after they'd gotten back from New York.

"Until...?" Liam pressed.

Fallon blinked, a flood of nostalgic anger hitting her as she finally remembered.

"Until the trailer was released. God, when was that?" She pulled her phone back out, tapping away into her search engine before reading off the date. "I had to come peel her off of her living room floor. She'd been at Alice's - they were photographed getting brunch that morning and I found her that night. I don't know what they did in those hours between - I'm not sure Kirby even knows what she did."

"Alright," Liam continued his notes. "Did she see Alice when you two were in New York?"

Fallon shook her head.

"I kept an eye on her the entire time. I'm sure they were still... talking during all of that, but we didn't see her. Next is the Hamptons festival," she nodded to the whiteboard, causing him to turn back to it once more.

"Any Alice?"

"No, but I remember getting on her case before she left - Jeff took her, not me -" she corrected, watching him erase her name, and then continued. "She specifically told me that they weren't together."

"And you believed her?" Liam asked. Fallon couldn't tell if his tone was disbelieving or not, with his back to her.

"I think so," she replied, unsure about it for the first time. "People had definitely gotten the hint that they were associated, by then, though. The general public, I mean - I went to my dad's wedding that same weekend and Steven's then-fiance knew about them."

"Okay, that's good," Liam encouraged, making a few extra notes. "Got it. Next?"

"They were photographed a few times out together - all pretty innocent." Fallon turned her attention to the spread of photos on the coffee table, pulling them together and trying to line them up in order. Liam appeared beside her, grabbing a couple and then sticking them to the whiteboard with some magnets where the dates lined up with their makeshift timeline.

"WAIT," Fallon gasped, startling Liam into nearly dropping his wine glass. She pointed at the whiteboard frantically, eyes wild. "The guy!"

"The guy?" He repeated.

"There was a guy!" She snapped. "Alice was out with some guy while Kirby was in the Hamptons. It was _everywhere_ for a couple of days."

"Did she and Alice seem... off after that?"

"Kirby didn't seem surprised when she found out. I think they'd started drifting by then."

"But they didn't stay apart. Obviously," Liam added.

"Right," she sighed. "She called me on the first box office day and was panicking - but by the time I showed up, she and Alice were..."

"Were...?"

"Together," she hissed through her teeth.

Slow realization dawned on Liam's face, and he turned back to the board, writing the note 'together' and then underlining it.

"Then there were these," she held out two more photos from the pile for him.

She stood up after that, coming over and taking the other marker to begin adding to the list. 

She filled in their time together - both publicly and not - and made additional notes about the NDAs that she'd had Alice sign during meetings she'd sat in on.

"They were together the night before the nomination announcements, but then -" Fallon told him, making a quick note before pausing and standing back from the board. She could hear her voice shaking, but wasn't sure when it had started.

"Fallon," Liam mumbled, turning to her. "We can take a break."

Wiping at her waterline despite her eyes being completely dry, Fallon shook her head, making another note.

"The nominations were announced - Kirby made some kind of vague threat and then the two of us came back to my condo."

"A threat?" Liam asked.

"She was stressed out - she didn't want to be alone, Alice was at the studio, and I didn't want her to... self-medicate."

"Okay, when did she see Alice next?"

Fallon looked over at him, then dropped his gaze when he caught her eye. 

"She- she didn't see her after that. Their schedules were too different. I don't think she saw her again until..."

She trailed off and Liam reached past her to write 'Oscars / Alice's OD' at the bottom of the timeline.

"Did they have a fight or something? Seems weird that they just... dropped each other and picked up again. Especially if they were that close."

"Yeah, well, I don't think Alice was as committed to the whole thing as Kirby was," Fallon huffed.

"I'd say otherwise," Liam replied, heading back around the couch to pick up the CD case, waving it in gesture.

"That doesn't..." Fallon rolled her eyes weakly, trying to squash the frustration out of her tone. "That isn't important."

"She was clearly invested," he pulled the tracklist and lyric booklet out, beginning to assign tracks to different periods on the timeline. "Why would Kirby think any worse of Alice? She seemed pretty desperate to get to know her."

"Maybe everyone with common sense finally got to her?"

"Everyone?" Liam repeated, glancing over his shoulder at her. "Or just you?"

Hardening her resolve, Fallon returned to the board and swiped the marker from his hand. Wiping a small spot clean in the middle of the gap between 'nomination' and 'Oscars' with the side of her fist, she neatly printed in: " _Started sleeping with Fallon_ ".

Liam's eyes flicked over the words before he turned to Fallon again and nodded once.

"Okay. Understood."

Fallon waited a beat, expecting judgment, or a snide remark - _something_ \- but Liam just turned back to his work.

"There's still a lot of gaps here. You don't have anything else? Maybe emails, phone records... some kind of memory of Kirby mentioning her?"

Staring off into the middle ground as she tried to think, Fallon hummed and then shook her head.

"I mean... I could call her back?"

Liam's eyes widened and he shook his head.

"You, uh, you don't have to do that. Not now, at least."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Fallon slouched her stiff posture and then rubbed the back of her neck.

“This is such bullshit,” she said.

“Look, I know, but we’ll sort it out. You’re the best, at this. Cleaning up.”

“No, I mean - I just… how did she go off and _die_ and she still won?”

“Fallon-” Liam began, sounding disproving for the first time since they’d started working that evening.

“ _No_ ,” she snapped, unable to stop, now. “It isn’t fair. All of this is her fault. She gets to cause all of this chaos, and… and hurt, and then what, she’s rewarded for it?”

“Fallon, she’s _dead_.” Liam’s tone was much sterner, now. On any other day, it would have stopped her in her tracks, but her anger fueled her forward.

“ _Good_ ,” Fallon growled. “If only she’d figured out how to stay that way.”

The silence that fell over them immediately filled her with regret. Liam looked at her the way he never had before, but she’d seen a million times reflected in a million other faces. The horrified shock of seeing her for her. No matter how long she managed to keep someone at an arm’s distance, it was inevitable for them to learn it eventually. The raw vulnerability of exposing all of her anger at once made her feel suddenly tired, and she moved to perch on the back of the couch.

As if picking up on her exhaustion, Liam slammed the last few sips of his wine and held the empty glass out to her.

"Y’know what… let’s put a pin in this for the night. We can sleep on it, and then tomorrow I can... start putting something together for Kirby so that we can soften the blow before anyone else gets wind of any of this."

"Are you really sure about this?" Fallon asked. "I can try to find someone else to do it."

"That’s a lot of loose ends," Liam pointed out. "And we've seen what loose ends can turn into." He tapped the board with the marker, then set it down on the tray.

"I don't want to do anything that’s going to hurt your career," Fallon insisted.

Liam chuckled, taking the board and beginning to wheel it towards the opposite wall, turning it away from them. "As much as I love the newfound selflessness, you can just say 'thank you' and hopefully move on from all of this. This isn’t just my career - _or yours_."

"Oh, wow, it's really late," Fallon glanced at her phone and then shoved it into her pocket, grateful for the excuse. "We'll pick it up tomorrow?"

"How's noon work for you?" He asked.

"Perfect," Fallon stifled a yawn. "Do you need a ride?"

"I'm not in your area," Liam replied mysteriously, shooting her a small smile before grabbing his jacket from the couch and pulling it onto his shoulders. "Get some sleep, and don't forget to lock all of this up."

Patting her shoulder with one hand, he gestured at the board and table, then pulled the office door open and vanished out into the hallway.

Tidying the piles of papers and photos, Fallon glanced at the police report thoughtfully before shoving it into her bag. Triple-checking that she kept the blinds closed and locked her office door behind herself, she wandered down the dark halls and swiped her key card at the elevator.

* * *

Kirby had been gone for a month, but the house had never felt as empty without her as it did now. Knowing it was directly attributed to the phone call that they'd had a few hours earlier, Fallon ignored the feeling and kicked her shoes messily off in the front foyer. There were other things to focus on, like the story at hand, and every other work-related obligation that still loomed over her.

Googling the venue for the wrap party that Scarlett had invited her to, always preferring to know her way around a building before stepping foot in it, Fallon padded into the kitchen to pour herself one last glass of wine to accompany the sleeping pill that she knew she'd need in order to get her racing mind to finally stop.

Humming and pulling out a glass, Fallon recognized the song that was stuck in her head and dropped the glass into the sink, shattering it.

"Fuck," she hissed, sweeping the remaining shards from the countertop into the sink with the rest. "Fuck!"

Alice had won. Not only was her love letter about to be publicized and discussed for the rest of time, but she'd immortalized it - ironically. Fallon couldn't compete with the untouchable rose-glasses look that everyone turned on the dead. She'd never know if Alice had somehow known Kirby more than she did, or would. She couldn't see her from Kirby's perspective, she didn't have those memories, and no matter what her opinion of Alice was, it wouldn't change Kirby's.

Grabbing a fresh wine glass and deciding to deal with the broken glass from the previous one in the morning, Fallon shakily poured a glass and then exited her browser, pulling her contacts up instead.

Maybe she'd just apologize to Kirby once. The break probably was a good idea, but that didn't mean she needed to totally push her away. She could let her know that she still cared.

She tapped out a quick _"Liam and I will call you tomorrow"_ text, frowning when the green text bubble appeared. Had Kirby blocked her number? Was her own phone not working?

Shaking it, as if that would help, she scrolled up through their conversation and realized her error made in sleepiness - it was her Los Angeles number.

Her Los Angeles number - _the number to the phone that was currently upstairs, in their bedroom in Kirby's nightstand._

It was a slippery slope of invading privacy that she wasn't sure she wanted to start treading down, but if it could help fill in the gaps, it seemed like a necessary evil.

'I think Kirby's phone is around here somewhere, I'll see if I can't find anything else out," she texted Liam before she could talk herself out of it. Taking the stairs two at a time and balancing her wine, she practically collapsed across their bed and yanked open the drawer on Kirby's side.

This was it. She couldn’t come back from doing this.

A quick scroll through her recent texts revealed nothing - only Kirby responding to Jeff about scheduling; telling Will that she was on her way out town but they'd get drinks when she got back; a few security codes from when she'd locked herself out of her emails and online banking. Pulling up her notes app, instead, she scrolled to the oldest entry and worked her way up. They weren't organized by title - or anything, really - but Fallon tried to cross-reference the dates from memory as best as she could. Some were just series of unmarked numbers - Fallon noted ' _door code: 2607_ ' from the night of the Oscars, and an uncomfortable chill washed over her at the realization that it probably used to be the code to Alice's building. The next note up from that night was a smattering of what were probably very high epiphanies.

_'religion where we all take peyote all the time so no one can lie_

_get a bigger tattoo now that ur allowed_

_eternal sunshine of the spotless mind technology needs to exist need to stop thinking call fallon need to rewire'_

Closing her eyes for a moment, Fallon considered stopping there. She was clearly reading thoughts and details more intimate than she was ever expected to - but that was the point. She couldn't read her mind; this was as close as she could get to that.

To her relief, the notes seemed to get lighter-hearted after that. Dates to add to her calendar for meetings with her (previous) manager, her notes on things to watch and read before her audition for _The Last Fire_ , and then, with a flood of butterflies at the realization, the notes that came once she and Fallon started to go out.

She read almost halfway through a list of restaurants before realizing that they were all restaurants she'd mentioned to the actress. There were places that she'd told her they'd have to check out together, in the city. More recently, there were what seemed like research notes about some of the other Carringtons, dated on the day that they'd flown to Atlanta for Steven's wedding - information she must have gotten out of Sam when Fallon had left them alone. 

She continued to read - lunch orders that Fallon had given her to pick up on her way home from work; movies that had trailers that had made Fallon leaned over the armrest in the movie theater to nudge Kirby and whisper 'we should see that' in the dark.

None of this was information that helped her realize anything about the Alice story, though. All it had succeeded in doing was turning her eyes misty, her vision blurring before she wiped them dry and exited out of the app.

The rest of the apps on the home screen had small badge notifications - Kirby was notoriously bad at not clearing them, or checking them as often as she should have - and Fallon reflexively clicked on one, a travel app, as if on her own phone. Wincing, but hoping that it wouldn't be something Kirby would notice when she eventually returned to the phone, Fallon closed her eyes and then peeked one open to see what she'd come across.

_New Price Alert: LAX → SYD (2, First Class): $2050_

Exiting before she could properly give herself time to process, she opened the photo gallery instead, tapping 'search by date' and scrolling back as far as she could. It was still the same phone that Kirby had replaced the morning after her first night out with Alice - despite her often chaotic demeanor, _and_ the means to replace nearly anything at the drop of a hat, the actress _did_ take care of her things; it was one of her more admirable qualities.

There were photos of cocktails and meals, with darker, blurrier photos of the same in candlelit restaurants. Drunk and stoned mirror selfies with Alice, people that Fallon didn't recognize, and Kirby alone. She texted a few of the photos to herself, just to double-check who else was in them with Liam the next day, then deleted them from their text thread.

There was a shot of Fallon outside - near water, but the background wasn't totally distinguishable in the dark contrast that the flash had caused. It was pre-Oscars, and it wasn't until she clicked on the photo for details and saw its location tag - New York - that she remembered it being taken.

* * *

_"Let me get this straight, you've been to New York… how many times? And you've never ever done any of the fun tourist stuff?"_

_"Sorry to disappoint," Fallon replied, sidestepping some soggy breadcrumbs on the ground near a bench - clearly it hadn't even been good enough for the birds._

_"You won't let me see Alice, you won't let me go on a walk by myself, and now you won’t take a picture of me in front of the skyline," Kirby groaned, slowing to a stop like a child being stubborn. "When you said I was 'grounded', I didn't think -"_

_"- That I'd meant it?" Fallon finished for her, turning around to glance back at her and wincing at the sudden flash from her camera. "Are you kidding?"_

_It was the first genuine smile she'd seen from the other woman all night - a giddy, nervous one as Fallon approached her with one hand outstretched._

_"No!" She insisted, clutching her phone in both hands and twisting away as if worried Fallon was going to try to take it from her - that, or trying to tempt her to. "One of us needs a picture here or it’s like it didn't even happen."_

_"Okay, seriously, delete it." Fallon stood before her, hand still outstretched._

_"Fine," Kirby huffed, glancing back at her screen and tapping away at it before shoving it back into her pocket and holding up both hands. "Done. Happy?"_

_"Thrilled," Fallon deadpanned. "Let’s start heading back."_

* * *

Staring at the wall of photos following - a lot of Kirby and Alice together. The unfiltered and unposted outtakes, behind what had ended up on Instagram for them. Her breath caught in her throat at a photo of the two of them kissing, the tiniest, almost imperceptible smile on Kirby’s face through it. Fallon may have decided that she was better off without Alice in her life, but her heart still ached at the idea of Kirby feeling alone or lost without someone - even if it wasn’t Fallon.

The photos of Alice became fewer and further between, the same way that Fallon had assumed she'd been trickling out of Kirby's mind over time. They were replaced with photos of Kirby grinning through fake blood during the test makeup sessions on _The Last Fire_ ; a picture of her with Will, the smile on her face not quite back to normal, but full of effort. If Fallon didn't know any better, she'd think that she was tracking her healing process - from details of open houses they'd attended to stupid pictures and memes saved from messages with her friends. Her smile looked much more genuine in the photo she took with Fallon, both of them with their sunglasses tucked into their hair, up to their chests in the bubbling water from their backyard jacuzzi. A video of Kirby laying in their bed caught her eye and she wiped a stray tear out of the corner of her eye, sniffling before pressing 'play'.

_"Hello, future Fallon,"_ Kirby's voice sounded so light and happy compared to how she'd sounded during their last conversation. Her word choice made Fallon freeze and sit up stiffly - there was no way she could know, right?

_"What're you doing?"_ Fallon heard her own voice from off-screen. 

_"I'm recording this for posterity - I might bring it out at our wedding. Might use it as blackmail - maybe both, I haven't decided."_ Kirby said, glancing down and off-screen for a moment before laughing. _"I'm making a video so we can talk about everything you did tonight, because you're going to say I'm lying in the morning."_

The camera jostled, and then the angled changed.

_"Are you seeing this?"_ She asked the camera, gesturing to where past-Fallon had climbed up to lay almost directly on top of her, tucking her face into the redhead's neck. _"No, no, you're not getting out of this, tell your future self the truth - about the jello shots, and the bar dancing, and -"_

_"Nooooo,"_ Fallon buried her face further in the other woman's neck, and Kirby shook her head in disappointment at the camera for a moment, before the camera jostled again.

_"I'll break the no-criminal-interrogation rule,"_ past-Kirby threatened. _"C'mon. Spill."_

Fallon lifted her head on-screen, fixing the other woman with a glare that present-Fallon could tell was shaky, even from the low-quality video.

_"You want the truth?"_ She asked.

_"Desperately,"_ Kirby replied, grinning in the face of the attempted-stern look she was being given.

Fallon on camera visibly softened, squirming closer until the two of them were almost nose-to-nose.

_"The truth is, I love you."_

Rolling her eyes, Kirby dipped her head and captured her lips in a small, soft kiss.

_"I love you t-"_

The video ended abruptly, and Fallon was left alone in the quiet bedroom once more. She turned to glance at Kirby’s empty side of the bed, as if expecting to see her there, and then burst into tears.

* * *

Fallon didn't know how long she'd cried for or when she'd eventually put herself to sleep with it, but when she woke up to the barely-risen sun and the birds chirping outside the still-open bedroom window, she was fully dressed and lying horizontally across both sides of the bed. Her chest felt like it had caved in and her lungs were raw - trying to clear her throat made her feel like it was on fire, so she grabbed the water from her bedside table and swigged from it until it was empty and she was just crushing the air out of it with her fist.

She knew that the break wasn't a mistake. They needed the time - but she had never missed the other woman the way she had all night. Sitting up and forcing herself out of her clothes despite the tight pain in all of her muscles, Fallon straightened the wrinkled duvet cover and then headed into the bathroom to shower without checking the time. 

She'd cried it out - it was out of her system. Or, at least, she was making the executive decision that it all _needed_ to be out. She needed to focus on the Alice album, work, and then, when she had a moment to herself, her case to save her and Kirby's relationship from itself.

Stepping out of her quick shower, forcing herself into the mindset of 'refreshed', Fallon finally checked the time and realized it was just after 6 AM. She still had six hours before she was meeting Liam at her office, which gave her enough time to do one last look through Kirby's phone - and desensitize herself to its contents, a little - and see if she'd missed anything in her preliminary search. Settling on the edge of the bed, and gripping her towel around herself a little tighter, Fallon pulled her texts up again, scrolling all the way to the bottom, this time. Most of the text threads were relatively recent, with some of the oldest only dating back a few months, but that wasn't surprising. If the photos weren't enough and they really wanted to dig deeper, Fallon could probably go through her messages to Fallon, or even Jeff, and find more information from the events surrounding Alice's death. 

Partway through the bland list of names, some with companies or titles or job positions to clarify who was who, was a thread with someone whose only name indicator was a single, black emoticon of a microphone.

The message preview piqued her interest, as it looked like an error message:

_[MESSAGE UNDELIVERED]_

How odd.

Opening the thread, Fallon cocked her head to the side and scrolled backward up through the messages, looking for some kind of sign. They were all from Kirby, each time being met with the same error message.

The most recent was only a few months old:

_'i'm going to go to atlanta and meet fallon's family. i think this is sort of big for us. big for her.'_

_[MESSAGE UNDELIVERED]_

Further back still:

_'i'm going insane from boredom. i know now why you never really stopped moving.'_

_[MESSAGE UNDELIVERED]_

It felt almost like reading a diary - it wasn't until Fallon scrolled up all the way to when the messages were garnering actual real responses, that she realized who they were intended for.

_'Hey, you home? I don't want to be alone'_

Something about the auto-caps that Kirby hadn't bothered to shut off made the messages read as shaky, at least in Fallon's head as her eyes flicked across the lines of text. The mystery contact had replied almost instantly.

_'i’m home! are you nearby? come on up i’m literally dying of boredom here.'_

Kirby's response, _'I’m super close, I’ll be right up,'_ set Fallon's teeth on edge with understanding.

The next message after that was over 24 hours later.

_'i'm so sorry.'_

_[MESSAGE UNDELIVERED]_

Locking the phone and setting it down, despite her temptation to read the rest of the diary-entry-esque messages that Kirby had sent, Fallon smoothed her still-damp hair away from her face and took a deep, calming breath, then stood to get dressed.

It felt pointless to go through the motions - finding an outfit and matching her shoes and bag with careful thought. Who cared what she looked like? Why even leave the house? Who cared about helping Liam crush an Alice and Kirby love story before it went public if it was still true at the end of the day, and she knew it? 

Unpacking her bag from the previous day, and repacking everything into her new purse, she paused on the police file and flipped it open. _Desensitized_ she was, after all. The night before, she might have felt a pull in her heart at the little comments like “incoherent” and “in shock” in the report - or the way Kirby’s usually neat handwriting was shaky and smudged in the copy of her hand-written statement. It still ached, somewhere in the back of her mind, but she had successfully emptied whatever tears she had been building up over the last years the night before. Maybe if she’d just let herself fall into Kirby naturally, before Alice had properly sunk her claws into her, none of this would have happened - but that need to keep her godlike reputation, coupled with the true underlying fear of letting her in too soon, had stopped her. Scorned reporters, angry directors, and civilians whose horror stories about her clients had been swept under the rug would have paid to see her, then: empty, unable to self-soothe, and alone. The no-accountability fairy; the Oscar whisperer; the sociopathic cyborg who would convince a man on fire to buy gasoline - she’d built herself out of stepping on others, and teaching her clients to do the same. Being crushed from every side at once and having one single runaway train of a story for which she couldn’t control the narrative take everything away from her at once was exactly what she deserved. She could make a lot of miracles happen, but even Fallon Carrington couldn’t best the dead.

  
She needed a Xanax (or two) and the time to check a few things off of her weekly to-do list before meeting with Liam - something, _anything_ to calm her mind down, despite knowing that the only thing that would truly make her feel better would be to have her girlfriend back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics: ‘They think your kindness is so weak, but you don’t give up so easy - you just wanted my attention, you just wanted my affection’ are from 'Escape from LA' by The Weeknd
> 
> The lyrics: 'Our love is like a papercut, I know we're gonna mess it up - I feel the weight pressing on my shoulder' are from 'Papercut' by Indiana


	26. Chapter 26

The cycle of wake up, take a pill, go to work, drone through the day without complaint, go out, drink, sleep, repeat, was getting old. Kirby felt like she was floating through her days in a dissociative state without any real understanding of time passing or where she was. Half of the time, it felt like she was watching herself through someone else, going through the motions and simply waiting for an appropriate time to start drinking. 

She tried everything, in the first couple of days. She tried to fling herself into her ‘friendships’ with the cast and crew; she tried to be social; she tried to be alone. She tried a 24-hour sobriety period - not even a cigarette - but it did nothing to clear her head. Getting blackout drunk the night before her first day off for the week didn’t help, either. She knew, in the back of her head, that it wasn’t as simple as needing something fun to do to get her out of her slump. She didn’t even need time to be alone with her thoughts - she knew what they all were, and she knew what they all meant. All she wanted was to wake up and for enough time to have passed for everything going on to be a thing of memory. 

Fallon had texted her the afternoon after their last phone call. Afternoon for Fallon, of course - it was around midnight when Kirby rolled over in her bed and got the news.

_[12:01AM] Fallon: Liam said he’s going to email you more information._ _  
_ _[12:01AM] Fallon: There’s a story he’s going to handle about Alice, subsequently you. Please read the email CAREFULLY so that we can take care of this quickly and quietly._

Groaning softly at her phone, Kirby tossed it aside without answering to pretend that she was asleep - she had to be back on set in less than seven hours, anyway. It was a believable lie. If she did manage to fall back asleep, that would be a problem for her _then_.

Giving up after a few more restless minutes of tossing and turning, she dug out the joint that Kaira had procured for her a few days earlier - she’d been saving it - and pulled a t-shirt over her head before padding out into the living room towards the back door. Her Twitter had a new notification badge, so she clicked it open just as she stepped into her slippers near the door and rolled open the sliding glass door.

Dozens of new interactions appeared in her notifications feed, continuing to rack up even as she stared at it. Clicking the most recent tweet in question, she read - from her own account.

_@KirbyAnders: always remember the importance of mental health. take a day, when you need it. be kind to yourself._

Below the words was an old photo that she’d never posted, of her hand on a coffee mug at the table in the LA house. She wasn't sure how the social team even got ahold of it, but the responses to the tweet were wholly supportive, if not a little over-familiar. 

There were a few people making associations with Alice - but not many, and none seemed to be associated with anything new or similar to what Fallon had mentioned in their call.

Stepping out into the cooler air of the back garden, Kirby grabbed the tin of matches from the small iron coffee table to her left and lit the joint between her lips. 

The email alert sound of her phone sounded as she went to tuck it into the waistband of her underwear for safekeeping, but she ignored it. That would likely be Liam, emailing her with the details about the story and the questions for her to go over with him. That would also be a problem for her after she'd gone back to sleep. 

Still... curiosity got the better of her as she puffed away at the joint, and with a defeated roll of her eyes at her own self, she pulled the phone out again to scan the email.

_'Hey Kirby,_

_I attached a document with some questions for you to go over - feel free to take your time with them, be as wordy or succinct as you want. The distance is making this a little difficult, but I'll write it as though we're sitting face to face having a conversation, so feel free to add in any notes about your additional thoughts/feelings/etc. if you so choose._

_Take care,_

_Liam Ridley - Popnosis'_

Pursing her lips, Kirby's hovered over the attachment before exiting the email app altogether and dropping her hand back to her side. Fallon trusted Liam - after the story that had directly followed Alice's death, he'd been good to them - but it was still hard to imagine spilling her heart out to any stranger about how she was feeling. It had been difficult enough to do in those few therapy sessions that she'd gotten in right at the beginning, but to do so for a reporter - a reporter who was going to share it with the rest of the world - felt prickly and uncomfortable. 

She had never made a habit of being too vulnerable with the press, but the occasional personal anecdote or tidbit of information had never hurt. She didn't like to overshare, but she'd never felt this threatened or cornered before, either. 

The joint seemed to be successfully making her more sleepy, but she could feel her anxiety heightening. Unsure of whether it was the weed, or simply the other surrounding factors, she stubbed out the end and headed back inside, making her way back to bed with a zombie-like shuffle. She knew that her own curiosity would be the death of her, but it was inevitable. Therefore, as she flung herself back down on top of the sheets of her bed, she plugged her phone in and pulled up Liam's email again, opening the attachment.

* * *

One single fingernail tracing a careful outline along the tiny heart tattooed on Kirby's shoulder roused her awake. 

"No," she mumbled, pushing her face further into the pillow in protest. "Not yet - I'm so tired."

"You're always tired." Alice's voice sounded amused, not unhappy, and her hand vanished momentarily only to be replaced with her lips. She pressed a tiny kiss to the tattoo - her usual 'good morning' - and then Kirby felt her stretch out alongside her.

"Just lately," Kirby replied, finally rolling onto her side to face her. 

"Maybe you're not getting enough iron," Alice said conversationally, before pursing her lips and adding on, "Or you're just stressed out."

Lucidity was just within her reach, for a moment. It was like one moment, she was in character, and everything was real, and the next, she could see the wooden planks that propped up the set. The cool breeze from Alice's open window was replaced with the heat of stage lights.

"Kirby?"

No, that wasn't right. She was present. 

"Mhm?" She and Alice were almost nose to nose. The brunette broke into a smile, leaning in closer as if about to kiss her, and then leapt up from the bed.

"Breakfast?"

Rolling onto her back, Kirby stared up at the ceiling defeatedly. Clouds circled overhead, wrapping delicately around the miniature chandelier that was in the center of the room, making the whole space seem much dreamier.

"Please, can we just stay here?" Kirby asked, her voice much softer. "I'm not ready to get up, yet."

"Okay," Alice flopped back down beside her. "But let’s at least _do_ something. I'm _bored_."

"You could've stayed asleep," Kirby pointed out, slipping an arm around her waist as she cuddled closer and tucked her face into her neck.

Huffing a little breath of frustration - Kirby heard it, but didn't feel it - Alice shook her head slightly.

"I haven't been awake in like, forever. We haven't spent time together in like... years."

"That isn't true," Kirby laughed, pulling back to look at her more seriously after a moment.

"Yes, it is," Alice nodded. "Two years, actually, next month. Remember?"

Kirby felt her eyes immediately fill with tears, but in the same moment that the rush of emotion hit her, it vanished, and she felt calm again.

"Sorry. I've been busy."

"Too busy for me?" Alice asked playfully, sitting up again and putting a hand over her heart in faux-shock.

"I'm here now," Kirby promised, reaching up and cupping the side of her face.

All playful pretense dropped from the other woman's features as she leaned in and kissed her, slowly moving to climb on top of her without breaking their contact. She couldn't breathe, but it didn't seem important - Alice's lips never left hers, but she felt perfectly comfortable.

"I just thought of something we could do," Alice announced abruptly, pulling away and all but pushing Kirby back against the bed when she tried to sit up to follow her.

"Me too," Kirby insisted, grabbing her by the hips to pull her closer again.

"Not - no, not that." Alice gently pried Kirby's fingers away. No matter how hard she tried to grab for her again, her movements felt sluggish and tired. "I've been working on something new, wanna hear it?"

"Okay."

"Okay," Alice slid off of the bed, heading for the door. "Close your eyes."

Playing along with a quiet sigh, Kirby closed her eyes and then leaned back against the headboard. Now that she felt more awake, the bed felt considerably less comfortable. She knew that it was massive - too big for the two of them - but it felt small, and rigid now that she was paying better attention.

"Okay, open."

The bed was gone, and she was in the seat of her car - no, not her car. Just _a_ car.

“Oh, fuck,” she hissed, gripping the wheel in front of herself tighter, and slamming on the brakes as they approached a red light. The car slid along, barely managing to stop in time as if they were driving on pure ice, but they were alone on the road, and Alice seemed completely unbothered by her lack of safety skills.

"I - " Kirby looked back and forth between the road and the woman in the passenger seat, before asking meekly, "You were going to show me a new song?"

Alice peered down at her nails, frowning, and then picked at one of her cuticles.

"No," she replied slowly. "You said you didn't want to hear it."

"What?" Kirby tilted her head to the side, gently pressing the gas pedal down again, sure that the coast was clear. The car took its sweet time picking up speed again, but once it had, she felt a little more at ease. "I obviously want to hear it."

"No," Alice repeated. "You said, ' _change the song, or turn it off_ '. Didn't you?"

Kirby turned to face her for a moment, before looking at the road again.

"That wasn't what I meant."

Alice shrugged.

"Doesn't matter what you meant."

"Did I hurt your feelings?" Kirby asked.

Alice laughed softly - a calming sound, followed by incredibly disconcerting words. "You did a lot more than that."

"Where are we going?" Kirby turned her attention back to the road, ignoring the tingling sensation crawling up the back of her neck. 

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Fallon's voice snapped Kirby's attention back to the passenger seat. "You _know_ where the Dolby is, we've been there like thirty times this week? You kept making me do drive-bys?"

Looking down at herself, Kirby dropped one hand from the steering wheel and gripped a fistful of the silky material of her deep orange gown. It had been the most expensive thing she'd ever ruined - how was she wearing it now?

"Wait..." 

"No time," Fallon shook her head, then checked her phone. "We're late."

"Where's Alice?"

Fallon scoffed quietly, shaking her head without looking up.

"What is this? You're changing your mind? I asked you, _several times might I add_ , why you didn't just take her with you. Too late, now. You get me, instead."

Turning her attention back to the road instead of bothering to unpack that argument, Kirby readjusted her shaking hands on the steering wheel and drove through unfamiliar streets.

"Turn here," Fallon told her, reaching out in front of her to point at the next intersection they approached. The buildings slid by the windows; unrecognizable, identical.

A wave of her perfume hit Kirby's senses all at once and she closed her eyes tightly as if trying to grip onto it like it were something physical and tangible. It turned faint so quickly - she could hardly remember what it smelled like anymore. She hadn't been gone that long, had she?

_When did she even get back to LA?_

"Am I dreaming?" She mused out loud.

Fallon chuckled, reaching over and covering her hand on the wheel. The gesture was so warm, and soft, that Kirby felt magnetized towards her. When was the last time someone had actually touched her like that?

"Of course you're dreaming."

"Okay," Kirby nodded, processing. "I don't want to go, then. I like it here. I like us like this."

Making a soft, sympathetic noise in the back of her throat, Fallon squeezed her hand before letting it go.

"Sorry," she replied shortly, nodding at the approaching exit. "Take this right."

Kirby did, not pushing the subject for the time being, and the generic surroundings slowly morphed back into something she remembered with a little more detail.

"Wait, I thought..." She looked down at her dress again, to make sure she was still in it, and then slowed to a stop on the shoulder of the road. 

"Thought what?" Fallon prodded, turning to look at her. All of the love and softness in her face was gone again. Kirby couldn't remember the last time she'd been on the receiving end of that look of bored apathy from her - probably not since they'd first met. "We're here. Get out. You're going to be late."

Startled, Kirby shoved the door open and stepped out of the car, immediately met with a breathtaking view of the city in the distance down the cliff. The sky above was more beautiful than Kirby had ever seen it - dully illuminated by the city lights below, the moon hung full and clear, so huge that it looked like she could reach out and touch it. Beyond that, she recognized Jupiter - but she'd never seen it so visible before.

"I didn't realize that there'd be this view," she breathed, hearing the passengers’ side door open behind her. "I wish I had my phone to take a picture."

"Yeah?" Alice's voice warmed her from the inside out. "You want to remember this forever, huh?"

Kirby turned to her as she approached her side and slipped an arm around her waist, leaning into her side contently.

"I never noticed how pretty the sky is here."

Alice dropped the wine bottle that Kirby hadn't noticed her holding, and the two of them watched it roll to the edge of the cliff, then vanish over the side.

"Whoops," she giggled. "I'll get us some more."

"Wait," Kirby whirled around, watching Alice head back to the car. "Fallon -"

Before she could finish her sentence, Alice had pulled the door open again - but Fallon was nowhere to be seen. _Why would she have been?_ Kirby had driven there with Alice, right?

No, she'd just been talking to Fallon. _They were heading to the Oscars._

_She hadn't taken Fallon to the Oscars, though, had she?_

_Wasn't that two years ago?_

"Godddd," Alice whined. "What is it with you? Fallon this, Fallon that. You know she's done with you, can you give it a rest?"

"What do you mean?" Kirby frowned. Why would Alice know that? She hadn't told anyone about their phone call. 

"Hello? She was only helping you until the awards. You lost. She's gone."

"No," Kirby ran both hands through her hair, squeezing her eyes shut. Everything was twisted around - she hadn't taken either of them with her that night, she'd gone with her cast. Fallon hadn't talked to her after - not after...

"Out of wine!" Alice announced, standing upright from where she'd been digging through the car. She looked pale; almost blue-toned, like she was a walking bruise. Her eyes looked exhausted; all of her usual bright, pristine makeup was gone from her face. "I'll get more."

"No." Kirby felt the urgency hit her from all sides at once, pulling the breath from her throat. Tears immediately poured out of her - the overwhelming rush of emotion that she could only truly reach in a dream state - and she desperately reached out to grab the other woman as she walked past her. "Alice, hang on-"

"Kirby," she laughed, dodging her hands easily. "It's fine. I'll be right back."

"No, stay here." Her arms were too heavy to hold out for her, and her feet stuck to the ground as she tried to step closer to her, like they were sinking into mud beneath her.

Turning her head over her shoulder and smiling brightly back at Kirby, Alice looked more alive than ever; almost airbrushed, like a billboard.

  
" _Relax_ ," she insisted, before taking one last step and dropping off of the edge of the cliff.

* * *

She woke herself up with a single sob, immediately slapping a hand over her mouth to silence it before scrambling to make sure that she hadn't woken Fallon up. Kirby's heart pounded against the inside of her ribs as she reached out and the other woman wasn't there - then remembered where she was and that she was, for once, very grateful to be alone.

Just as she began to calm down, her brain erasing her dreams from her mind and hiding them back where her waking consciousness couldn't reach, her alarm rang loudly from her phone and startled a small, embarrassing scream out of her.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she climbed up and quickly made her way to the shower, before she lost the surge of adrenaline that her nightmares had given her. She was ready in record time - she hadn't felt so aggressively motivated and in need of distraction in a long time, but she could put it into her work.

Her phone burned in her pocket as she made her way into her trailer, and she knew that it was all in her head, knowing that Liam's unanswered email would become her own personal hell as soon as she was finished for the day.

Nick was quiet - quieter than usual, at least, and Kirby wondered if nearing the end of the shoot was beginning to get to him, too. His hours were longer than hers, and she was feeling exhausted herself. 

As if she'd manifested it herself, the door to the mostly-empty trailer swung open, and Kirby glanced up at an unfamiliar woman standing in the doorway through the reflection in the mirror.

"Oh, good. It's just you guys," the woman greeted, ignoring the other two hairstylists setting up in the opposite corner of the trailer. "Kirby, I'm Angela - there's been a couple of changes to your schedule."

Closing her eyes and sighing quietly before she could help it, Kirby braced herself for learning about yet another delay.

Angela approached the station as Nick set down the brush he was picking up, and the two of them stared at her for a moment.

"...What is it?" she asked meekly, letting her eyes drop to the script sides in the other woman's hands.

"We're cutting your last confrontation that they were planning to shoot tomorrow, and we're going to add the Jackalope into the big fight for the next two weeks."

Feeling her heart sink, Kirby saw the relief about heading back to LA the next week slipping away.

"Oh," she sighed, glancing up at Nick for a moment, before turning to Angela again. "Sorry, I - that's fine but I need to call home, then... my lease is ending before shooting ends."

"Oh!" Angela startled her by laughing, and then shook her head. "No, _you're_ not in the fight, just your character - it's all stunt work, your double will fill in. Today will be your last day."

While staying an extra few weeks had been exhausting to think about, the idea that she would need to go home immediately - and face Fallon - wasn't totally appealing, either.

Kirby turned the information over in her mind, then nodded.

"Thank you?"

Nick patted her shoulder, nudging the chair softly. 

"This is great - you can get back home, see your friends, your girlfriend..." he trailed off and Kirby felt a lump rising in her throat before she nodded and forced a smile.

As if she'd expected her to throw a fit, Angela seemed to exhale a heavy breath of relief, and then handed the new sides to Kirby. 

"I'll let the director know to give you a send-off."

Kirby nodded again, shakily taking the pages and pretending to be interested in them until Angela let herself back out of the trailer. Meeting Nick's eye in the mirror, she watched his face turn from contentment to worry.

"Kirby?"

"Yeah," she breathed, shaking her head and then her shoulders. "I'm fine. Sorry. I just have so much to do, now."

Nick watched her for another moment, as if checking her face for a lie, and then got to work.

* * *

As her day - and time on the set altogether - was announced as wrapped, Kirby felt relieved to be leaving a set for the first time since she'd started working. It wasn't fair to the cast and crew that were kind to her to be in a hurry to leave them, but with her personal life in shambles and her mental health on the decline throughout the entire shoot, she was ready to close the chapter and move on, cutting her losses.

Heading back to the trailer before anyone could stop her, Kirby pulled her bag out from under the makeup station, beginning to pull her own clothing out to redress. The contacts were only just beginning to burn her eyes, and she knew it was just because she was tired, but it felt like a sign that her body was physically rejecting being a part of the movie anymore.

"Kirby?"

She hadn't even heard the door open, but a soft voice behind her startled her and she nearly hit her head on the underside of the counter as she stood up.

"Oh, shit. Allison, you scared the hell out of me."

"Sorry," the makeup artist stepped further into the trailer and closed the door behind herself, smiling meekly. "I just wanted to say 'bye' before you took off."

"Oh," Kirby smiled genuinely, in spite of her earlier stress. "Thank you."

"You're sort of my last friend, here. It's going to be a weird next few weeks."

Kirby scoffed quietly.

"You still have Kaira and Jackson."

Allison squinted, leaning her head from side to side for a moment.

"They sort of put up with me because you do. But, hey! Maybe we could hang out when I get back to LA, too?"

"Of course we can," Kirby promised, slinging her bag up onto her shoulder. "Let me give you my actual number."

Allison scrambled to pull her phone out, handing it over to her quickly so that she could enter her number.

"I have a previous... press thing I have to do," Kirby excused herself as she returned to the phone to the other woman. "But we'll keep in touch. Okay?"

Seeming a little more relieved, Allison nodded, sidestepping to let her out of the trailer.

Making her way to the hired car that she could see idling outside of the parking area, Kirby said nothing to the rest of the crew that she passed, pulling her sunglasses on over her tired eyes and slipping away for the last time without so much as a look back; unnoticed.

* * *

With her few boxes of clothing and knickknacks packed away, Kirby emptied the remaining booze from her fridge and lined it up on the counter, preparing for one final solo 'hurrah'. Production had promised that if she was packed up by the following morning, they could have her stuff back in her Los Angeles storage unit before she even managed to book a flight, saving her the hassle of trying to deal with getting ahold of Jeff through the time differences.

Her agenda for the night was simple: s,he needed to read over the questions that Liam had sent her, and then let Fallon know about the change in her schedule. After that, she'd book her flight home, polish off the remainder of every bottle on the counter, and then spend her last night in her own place.

Twisting the order slightly, she poured herself a strong drink before settling in on the couch with her laptop to check her email. It was what she deserved, anyway - there was no way that she was going into any deep discussions about Alice with a near-stranger while sober.

Holding her breath as she opened the document, she watched it load on the screen as her phone chirped for attention next to her.

_[7:32PM] Fallon: Have you read the email yet?_

_[7:32PM] Fallon: Need an update._

Rolling her eyes, Kirby snatched her phone up and opened the thread to type back her response.

_'Reading it now. Was at work. Schedule change.'_

Fallon's 'typing' bubble appeared, and Kirby felt almost sick as she waited for her answer. If she'd been asked the day after Fallon's decision for them to take a break, she'd have jumped at the chance to go back to LA early and get a head start on fixing their relationship. Now, though, the idea of going back felt like a trip to a graveyard. 

_[7:33PM] Fallon: What kind of schedule change? Do you want me to call Jeff?_

She couldn't go back to her while they were like this. Not while she was still hurt about Alice, or frustrated by Scarlett, or, most importantly, only ready for one of the possible outcomes when it came to Fallon. 

She couldn't stay in Germany, though, either. 

Setting the phone aside, Kirby opened a new tab and reached for her credit card. The additional cost for booking such a last-minute flight stung as she typed in her details and heard the email alert confirming her purchase, but she pushed past it and reached over to answer Fallon's text instead of leaving her hanging.

_'They need me for at least another week. Sorry, I'll be home soon.'_

Fallon started typing again almost immediately.

_[7:43PM] Fallon: That's fine, I'll see you when you're back._

_[7:44PM] Fallon: Email Liam back, please._

Locking her phone and setting it aside, Kirby pushed her lie from her mind, ignoring the guilt settling in her gut, and pulled up Liam's questions again. With one more swig from her drink, for courage, she tugged the screen closer and began to read.


	27. Chapter 27

_ “Hey, Will, it’s Fallon,”  _ Using a towel to wring out the ends of her hair, Fallon headed from the bathroom to the bedroom, clutching her phone to the opposite ear. “Just wanted to know if you still wanted to do the  _ Friends of the LA River  _ event next month - I’m holding your spot for you, just give me a call when you get this. Thanks.”

Tossing the phone onto the bed, Fallon turned to head into her closet instead and begin to get dressed. She had all but given up on sleep, resigned to floating through the day, and trying her best to focus on work without stopping and slipping through the cracks. She’d taken to sleeping in the living room, too, as the couch was a much smaller area to try to fill with only one person. 

As part of her effort to keep Kirby at arms-length, Fallon had also avoided Liam, letting him know she was available to help if he needed her, but otherwise letting him work with Kirby in peace, and keeping herself as uninvolved as possible. It was always tempting to ask how she seemed, but there was a sort of silent agreement between the two of them that Liam would break his confidentiality with the actress if it was something Fallon really needed to be made aware of. It was hell, not knowing what was going on with her, but no news was good news.

Cocktails with Monica one evening as a distraction only served to make her tipsy and sad, going home alone to take a Xanax and a bubble bath - and nearly falling asleep in it - and the occasional stilted phone call with Steven only reminded her how lonely she was without him around. It was painful to remember that she really only had her colleagues. Normally, that was her comfort zone, but now that there was a lull in business, she had no one else to turn to.

Dressing in silence and settling in at her vanity to start her makeup, Fallon tried to ignore the way the quiet in the house set her teeth on edge. Mornings - even the slow, lazy ones - were never this quiet with Kirby in the house. There was always music, or a shower running before or after her; the redhead asking questions about her plans for the day or advice for what to wear from within the closet.

She couldn't stop replaying one of the last things that Kirby had said to her:  _ "I had to cut the grieving and the therapy short for the sake of your ego." _

She was just doing her job. Half of her work was sweeping things under the rug, or grabbing ahold of them and moulding them into something that the outside world could handle - at least, that was the way she'd always described it. Deep down, she'd always known it was selfish work, but that was the way the entire industry was. Los Angeles was always sinking; having a monopoly on the life rafts was simply smart, good business.

As she finished applying her lipstick, Fallon heard her phone begin to buzz on the bed behind her and leapt up to grab it, eager for some kind of outside contact.

_ [8:45AM] Scarlett Barnes: hey! i know i never confirmed, but if you're still free today, we should get lunch. _

Trying not to seem too eager, Fallon typed her response out slowly, willing herself to relax. She'd been close to dropping in at the office just to kill time and maybe run into Jeff, or even Blake or Cristal, she'd been so desperate. Even Scarlett hadn't answered her invite for a catch-up working lunch, which had been salt in the wound - until now.

_ ‘I can do 11:30.’ _

There. Look busy-ish, have an early lunch - less time alone at home, of course - and then sort out what to do with the rest of the day.

Scarlett replied almost immediately.

_ [8:49AM] Scarlett Barnes: 11:30 sounds perfect! we can get the brunch menu at redbird. where can i pick you up from? _

Fallon stared at the screen for a few moments, making sure that she’d read the message correctly. She didn’t even realize the other woman drove herself, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been driven anywhere that wasn’t by a professional car service. Kirby had driven them once or twice, and never far each time, but she was usually the one in the driver’s seat.

Whatever. She couldn’t be picky about how her day was going. She was lucky that Scarlett answered her at all when she had.

Sending her the address pin, Fallon got up from the vanity and collapsed backward onto the bed. Her still-damp hair felt cold and uncomfortable pressed between her back and the silky top of the duvet, but she was too tired to move. Realizing that Scarlett would need the gate code, as well, she held her phone over her head to send it and then sighed. She hadn’t exactly lied about her lifestyle, but she’d avoided the topic as much as possible with the actress. She was more relatable when Scarlett had thought they both grew up similarly in Atlanta or that Fallon was working for  _ her _ , not the other way around. Scarlett had mentioned Kirby once or twice, and she’d run into them at  _ Santuari  _ \- which wasn’t exactly a low-key, low-budget hole in the wall diner either. Maybe the sprawling six-bed, six-bath family home that she was currently holed up in alone wouldn’t be as big of a shock for Scarlett as Fallon feared.

She finished getting ready as slowly as possible, stalling until ten o’clock before deciding to force herself to watch a movie to distract her frantic mind from how badly she wanted to call Liam and check in on the progress of the article.

Her own movie collection was mostly digital, with a few blu-rays and DVDs tossed neatly into an oversized wicker basket and tucked under the console in their living room. Most of hers were in unmarked cases, accidentally lifted from the work library and never returned, but a couple of classics stuck out. Kirby’s collection was considerably more well-maintained, alphabetized and lined up along either side of the tv itself. A few of her old region-four discs were still present, despite not working on their American DVD player, but she’d claimed that they were there as reminders to be replaced. At one point, Fallon had thought about ordering her an Australian DVD player as a gift, but had forgotten.

Running a finger along the spines, Fallon squeezed her eyes shut and then picked a disc at random, pulling the case out and grimacing at the title.

_ The House That Screamed  _ looked unlike the rest of Kirby’s collection, much pulpier and vintage, but it was in the ‘American’ pile, so Fallon opened the case and pulled the disc out.

It started slowly, but Fallon quickly found herself sucked in. Despite her general distaste for horror, the overall vibe started to remind her of the old classics that she was personally more fond of, and she lost track of how much time had passed when the doorbell rang and startled her out of her screen-trance. Glancing at her phone, she saw that she'd already missed a text from Scarlett, letting her know that she was outside, and quickly paused the movie to rush to the door.

If Scarlett was upset by being kept waiting, she didn't show it. Instead, her entire face lit up as Fallon opened the door, and she bounced on the spot with a wave.

"Hey! Sorry, I thought I'd be here like ten minutes earlier but I get so turned around on these streets up here. It's like,  _ hello, LA, ever heard of the grid system _ ?"

"Oh, it's fine - I don't really have much else on the agenda today," Fallon assured her, glancing over her shoulder to sneak a peek at the car parked on the driveway. 

Scarlett raised herself onto her toes and chewed her lip, leaning sideways to block Fallon's view with a nervous smile.

"I, uh - hope the car isn't going to be a problem. I saw yours parked and started regretting offering to drive."

Managing to finally get a clear view, Fallon snorted before she could stop herself when she was met with the sight of a considerably older model of Cadillac. It likely would have impressed a collector, and it had clearly been well-maintained - if not a little well-worn, too.

"It's no Porsche, but it's pretty good as far as hand-me-downs go. Never say 'no' to a free car."

Before Fallon could get another word in, Scarlett had slid through the remainder of the opening in the doorway, stepping off of the rug. The cork of her wedges squeaked softly against the marble tile as she tilted her head back, taking in the vaulted ceiling of the entryway with quiet wonder.

"Your house is so beautiful. And  _ big _ ."

"Thank you," Fallon replied, trying to keep the stiffness out of her voice. Having Scarlett come to her house was one thing, but having her inside of it was another. 

"Will you give me a tour? Or, maybe a drink? It's crazy hot out." Scarlett emphasized her point by fanning her face. Before Fallon could protest, Scarlett whirled around to face her, with the same nervous but bright smile as before, and Fallon felt immediately inclined to say yes.

"Y'know what? Sure. I'll get you a drink, and then we can go?"

Shutting the door on the hot mid-morning air and stepping past the actress, she started towards the kitchen and Scarlett followed.

Fallon could feel that she had questions, but was keeping them mostly to herself. 

"Seems awfully big for just you," she commented as they rounded the corner into the kitchen. 

Fallon almost commented that she enjoyed the space, not even remembering to correct her until she opened her mouth.

"I live with my girlfriend," she hummed, tugging the fridge door open and eyeing the liquor bottles as she tried to find something just mellow enough not to cause alarm at the hour.

"Right!" Scarlett lit up at the mention of Kirby, leaning on the island and watching as Fallon decided on a bottle of Pinot Grigio and set it in front of her. "Where is Kirby?"

"Still in Germany," Fallon replied somewhat shortly, pulling down two glasses and a corkscrew. "Their shoot ran over a little. She should be back in a couple weeks, if all goes well."

Scarlett made a quiet sympathetic noise in the back of her throat, before gratefully accepting the glass that Fallon poured for her.

"Well, I'm happy to keep you company, then. Whoa, look at this yard." Taking her glass with her and heading towards the back of the kitchen, Scarlett peered out of the massive glass panelling of the wall at the pool. "I guess y'all would want your privacy, given everything."

"What do you mean?" Fallon asked, picking her own glass up and sidling up beside her.

"Y'know. Big movie star, and all that," Scarlett turned to her with a smile. Fallon couldn't help but think that if Kirby was there, she'd have a snarky comment about Scarlett being sarcastic, but Fallon could see on the other woman's face that the admiration was genuine.

Sipping her wine in lieu of a response, Fallon eyed the backyard and let Scarlett continue to prattle on.

"I bet you guys would have the best parties here," she sighed wistfully, then took a generous sip from her wine before startling the brunette by upending the rest of the contents of her glass into Fallon's. "I want to get a mimosa at brunch, and I'm driving," she explained.

Glancing at her glass before swigging from it heavily and setting it down, half-finished, on the table near her, Fallon straightened herself up to her full height and jutted her chin towards the sliding door closest to Scarlett.

"C'mon, I'll show you the yard."

* * *

The drive to Redbird took longer than Fallon had been anticipating - Scarlett was the opposite of aggressive in the midday Los Angeles traffic, and her massive car was a little more complicated to maneuver than Fallon’s own much smaller two-seater - but they made it unscathed and were seated just after 12:15.

They talked about Scarlett over mimosas and pastries, despite how many times the actress tried to turn the topic back around onto Fallon, and her own life. When the conversation finally rounded back onto the wrap party - the one that Fallon would be attending with Scarlett - she finally caved in and dropped the 'professional' veil.

"I really don't have many friends here, yet," Scarlett admitted, tearing a croissant in half and taking a bite. "All of the friends that I do have are from work, so they'll be there, anyway."

Fallon let the implication that they were friends hang in the air between them. There was no point insulting her by pointing out that they were also technically a work-relationship. 

Sighing contently as she finished the last pastry from the basket, Scarlett waved to their server and then quickly reached across the table to cover Fallon's hand when she pulled her purse up into her lap.

"Oh, please. It's on me."

"No, I insist," Fallon replied, picturing Cristal sitting in her office smugly watching Fallon's expense account not budging despite the time she'd blocked out for a work-related lunch meeting.

Letting her win with a promise of paying 'the next time', Scarlett climbed up from her seat just as Fallon's phone began ringing in her hand.

Incoming Call: Liam Ridley

Feeling her mouth immediately go dry, Fallon stood up so quickly that she saw spots, and grabbed the back of her chair for balance. Scarlett didn't seem to notice, already having headed to the seating chart podium and leaning against it with a laugh as she talked up the hostess standing there.

It was about Kirby - obviously - but he hadn't checked back in with her recently, so it could have been anything. Convincing herself that it was completely routine, she hit 'accept' on the call and started towards Scarlett.

"Liam? What is it?"

" _ He-ey, _ " he drew out the word, talking slowly as if it would help to make her feel any less jittery.  _ "You talked to Kirby, lately?" _

"No," Fallon huffed, already growing impatient. "Spit it out."

"Well... things have been going pretty good with the article. She's cooperating, if not a little... angrily," Liam explained. "But I don't know. Last night just seemed a little more intense than usual. I tried to sleep on it, but now she's not picking up her phone and I know she's been keeping her head down, but if last night is any indication, I wouldn't want to see her have a public spiral. Especially not with what we're trying to do."

"Fallon, you okay?" Scarlett frowned at her, stepping away from the stand, keys in hand. 

She must've looked particularly distraught, because the actress reached out to touch her arm worriedly. Fallon shrugged her away without thinking twice, clutching the phone tighter to her ear.

"How much longer do you need to finish the article?"

Liam sighed into the receiver. 

"I don't know, maybe a day or two? Maybe three? I'm working as fast as I can, but I think you should go check on her."

Shooting Scarlett an apologetic look, Fallon followed her to the car and climbed into the passenger seat.

"Well, I can't very well just get on a twelve-hour flight right now," Fallon snapped, despite trying to keep the venom out of her tone.

Scarlett climbed into the driver’s side and waited, still giving her that same unwavering look of curious concern, keys hovering over the ignition.

Liam was quiet for a moment, before cursing quietly under his breath.

"Liam, what?"

"I'm sorry - I really just assumed you knew. Kirby is back in LA - has been for a few days. I think she said she was at Hotel Figueroa? It wasn't really... coherent."

Feeling bile rise up in the back of her throat, Fallon lowered her phone to her lap and stared straight ahead out the windshield. 

"Fallon?" Scarlett's voice sounded tinny and distant, like she was hearing it through an old radio, despite her sitting directly beside her. For a moment, she couldn't remember how to catch her breath, feeling like her heart had completely stopped - but as soon as she inventoried the feeling, it changed, and suddenly everything that had slowed to a stop sped up. Feeling her heart against the inside of her chest, she shortened her breaths. It made her head swim, but it was better than feeling like her lungs were caving in. 

" _ Fallon? _ " Liam's voice, barely audible over the rushing sound of her own blood burning through her ears, snapped her out of it.

"I - sorry. I got lightheaded," she told Scarlett, picking her phone up again with shaking hands. "The heat," she lied, waiting as the actress warily started the car, still eyeing her nervously from the corner of her eye.

Raising her phone to her ear again, Fallon cleared her throat.

"Thank you, Liam. I'll take care of it."

Not giving him another chance to interrupt or protest, she hung up and turned to Scarlett.

"I'm sorry, I need to go somewhere else, instead of back to the house." She knew the hotel that Liam was talking about - she and Kirby had stayed in it once or twice in the past when the only concept of ‘them’ was still just a work tryst. 

"Okay," Scarlett replied, a little too enthusiastically, as if she was sure that her good attitude would be the prevention for another panic attack. "Where d'you want me to take you?"

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, Fallon leaned back in her seat.

"The Carrington office, please."


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the impromptu mini-hiatus! Thank you for your patience, & thank you for reading!

Staring at her laptop screen until her eyes blurred, Kirby waited impatiently for an email alert to sound, knowing deep down that it wasn't going to come. She'd sent her last batch of responses to Liam only eight hours prior, finally putting the entire interview to rest. Through a mix of emails and clarifying texts, phone calls, and voice memos, she had finally opened up for the first time since Alice had died. It felt more powerful than her therapy had - somehow more honest, focused not on her healing so much as just the raw truth. It hurt.

Liam had been surprisingly patient and understanding. It had been nice, to ease her into it, but she found herself pulling away from his reassurance; leaning into her own accountability and refusing to let him hold her hand through the process. It hadn't been clean cut - he'd been on the receiving end of a few belligerent responses from her when she'd hit the bottle a little too hard - but they'd finished it. She'd answered everything he asked, and then some. He had everything he needed to scurry off and spin everything into gold. He would understandably need more than eight hours - he was probably asleep when she'd sent the last email, anyway - but she couldn't help but feel anxious.

The anxiety was usually handled with a pill or two, but like some divine sign from the universe, she was fresh out. Ideally, she would just pop down to the pharmacy and refill her prescription, citing that she'd left the last bottle behind in Germany on accident, but she couldn't risk being spotted back in Los Angeles. All of her problems and solutions were all the same - if she didn't want to risk being spotted, she could just go home to her stash at the house. That involved talking to Fallon, though, face to face.

Closing her laptop and squeezing her tired eyes shut, Kirby looked around at the disheveled state of her hotel room, then groaned softly and stretched out on the couch. She missed her own bed by the window, with the quiet air-conditioner and the sheets washed in her favourite laundry detergent. She missed not sleeping alone, too, but a tiny voice in the back of her head told her to get used to it. 

She couldn't figure out if she was hungover or simply still drunk. Her stomach was twisted up into knots, and an ache in her jaw was radiating up into her temples. The empty bottles spread across the low coffee table beside her would suggest that she'd had a party, though it was just a result of her refusing to let housekeeping in for the last three days. She thought she'd almost been recognized when they'd forced her down to the hotel bar while they cleaned her suite for her, and that had been too close of a call for comfort. 

Her phone chirping in her pocket made her nearly jump out of her skin, scrambling to grab it and peering at the screen beadily.

_ [7:42AM] Liam (Popnosis): Got your email. _

She stared at the screen, waiting for further context, and then began typing an impatient reply when he didn't elaborate. Halfway through her response, she stopped herself, giving herself a moment to mentally cool down and then exiting the text thread entirely, bringing up Fallon's instead.

She missed her. So much that it kept her up some nights, in fact - but she still hadn't been able to bring herself to talk to her outside of anything work-related. Fallon seemed to prefer it that way, anyway, but the longer she waited, the more Kirby felt like their 'break' was less likely to end with them 'fixing' everything and more likely to conclude entirely. The potential messiness was up in the air, but Kirby also knew the longer she waited, the worse it would be.

Tapping on Fallon's name and clicking 'call', Kirby stood up from the couch and wandered over to the mini-fridge, squatting down to dig out a can of beer.

_ "Hello?" _

Kirby didn't even register that Fallon had picked up. The phone had barely finished ringing once, and without her usual cold formal greeting of 'Fallon Carrington', she was unrecognizable.

_ "...Kirby?" _

She sounded exhausted.

"Yes! Hi."

"Why're you calling? Aren't you at work?"

She was obviously unenthusiastic about the call, but Fallon's words weren't as cold or annoyed as Kirby had been expecting. She hadn't heard her sound so resigned in a long time.

"Don't worry about it. Has Liam given you any updates? How's his article coming?"

"He's working as fast as he can, Kirby," Fallon sighed. Kirby could picture the tiny loose tendrils of hair around her face being puffed away by the force of it. 

Cracking open her beer as quietly as possible, Kirby took a quick sip and winced at the icy coldness against her teeth.

"But it's going well?" 

"As far as I know," Fallon replied. "I'm waiting for the first draft to give it the go-ahead. He says it’s going well, though. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Kirby was quiet, leaving that question unanswered. After a moment, Fallon sighed again - Kirby thought she was going to apologize, but she didn't.

"How's Germany?"

Settling back on the couch less than gracefully, Kirby took another sip from her beer before responding.

"It's lonely."

"Then maybe it's time to come home."

"Yeah?" Kirby felt her eyes well up before she could even properly process. "I, uhm... yeah. I'll see how quickly I can get back."

"What time is it there?" Fallon's voice sounded a little lighter, and Kirby wondered if the idea of having her home felt as good to Fallon as it did to her.

"Doesn't matter. I'll let you go."

"Okay," Fallon replied shortly, clearing her throat softly before her tone turned back to it's usual 'professional' tone. "I'll talk to you when you get back."

She hung up without another word, leaving Kirby to sit in silence for a moment as she contemplated her next move. Taking another much more generous sip from her beer, she stood from the couch and began to organize her empty bottles into a neat line, picking up the pillows that she'd stolen from the bed and beginning to haul them back to the bedroom.

* * *

**TWO YEARS EARLIER**

"No,  _ noooo _ , no, Fallon take this," Kirby grabbed her girlfriend by the crook of the elbow with one hand, barely balancing the small bankers box on her other arm. "You have to carry one box. It's bad juju if you don't."

"What exactly did we hire all the movers for?" Fallon asked sarcastically, turning to the redhead. One manicured brow raised over the rim of her sunglasses before she pulled them from her face and stuck them into her hair for safekeeping.

" _ One _ box, Fallon." Kirby pointedly set the box into her arms, letting go quickly so that the other woman was forced to grab it. "It's for  _ your _ office, anyway." 

Sighing heavily, Fallon rolled her eyes theatrically, then turned on her heel to head back up the driveway, only to be stopped by Kirby grabbing her by the hips, pulling her back flush against herself.

"Hey -" She started to protest, falling silent when the redhead hooked her chin over her shoulder and pressed her cheek to hers.

"Look at it," Kirby sighed. The pair of them stared up at the front entrance of the house before them, quiet for a moment. "Are you excited?"

"It's a house," Fallon reminded her, wiggling from her grasp to face her properly. Her face was soft, though, the tiniest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. "The important thing is us being  _ in  _ it.  _ Together _ . With the air conditioning - please, it is  _ so  _ hot out."

Laughing, Kirby let her head inside, turning back to the car to grab another of the smaller boxes that they’d chosen to bring themselves.

  
It wasn't going to be their first night in the house - the movers and interior designers would be arranging furniture and art until later hours of the evening and the following morning - but it was finally  _ theirs _ , on paper. It didn't matter if they were spending one more night in a hotel downtown, because when they arrived the next afternoon, they'd be home.

* * *

Kirby wouldn't be able to explain how she'd sped up her fourteen-hour flight up and arrived home in less than four, but as she hauled her suitcases into the back of the idling taxi in front of the hotel, she realized that that was probably going to be the least of her concerns.

The ride was long - Kirby had figured that hiding herself right in the middle of the chaos of the city would be a better, safer option than somewhere where there would be no way to pretend to be someone else. Massive, mirror-like towers and offices slid along outside of the window and Kirby felt a chilly, bitter resentment pooling in the pit of her stomach.  _ Ugly fucking city. _

"I wasn't going to say anything," the cab driver finally spoke from the front seat, pulling her attention from the generic view to the back of his head, instead. "But you're Kirby Anders, right?"

Clutching her phone in her pocket, Kirby waited a beat and then nodded, catching his eye in the rearview mirror.

"Yes."

"I hate to do this, but is there any chance I could get an autograph or something?"

Kirby resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Uh, yeah. D'you have a piece of paper or something?"

The man dug around in the center console for a moment, one eye on the road, and then pulled out a worn, yellowing spiral notepad. Handing it to the back seat blindly along with a pen.

"Anywhere there's room. My daughter - she's a huge fan, I don't think she'd let me live it down if I didn't ask."

Kirby uncapped the pen and flicked the notepad open, flipping past pages of what were clearly mileage notes and finding a clean one. 

"What's her name?" She asked, wondering when her voice had started to sound so jaded. Since when did she assume that it was a scam to be asked for anything by a fan?

"Lilliana," the driver replied, not missing a beat. "She's six."

Kirby softened, her pen pausing on the page before she glanced up at the rear-view mirror again - but he wasn't looking.

"That's a pretty name," she said softly. "Three L's?"

He nodded, then continued:

"She's obviously a little young for some stuff, but her older brothers did take her to that big action one, with the skydiving scene? She recreated it off the living room couch for like two months."

He punctuated the anecdote with a laugh, and Kirby couldn't help but chuckle at the image.

"Well, don't tell her it was green screen," she hummed, tacking on a quick little doodle of a parachute to her note, then handing the pad back.

Swiping it away gently and setting it back in the console, the driver glanced back at her through the mirror again.

"Didn't I see something about you in some new... fantasy thing?"

Kirby nodded, settling comfortably in her seat.

"Yeah. I just got back."

"When's that coming out?"

"Oh, probably not for at least a year," she breathed, "There's a lot of post-production to do."

The driver nodded, pulling around onto the long winding road that led towards their gate.

"Well, we'll definitely be the first ones in line on opening weekend."

Smiling genuinely for the first time in days, Kirby sat up straighter before recognizing their surroundings and feeling dread seeping back in. Her legs were shaking as she climbed out of the backseat, waiting as the driver came around and pulled her bag from the trunk. 

"Thank you," she breathed. 

"Thank  _ you _ ," he replied, chuckling before turning to head back into the car.

Looking up at the front doors to the house, Kirby felt intimidated, if not disgusted by it for the first time. It had seemed so important to let Fallon make all of the decisions to protect her privacy at the time, but now it felt gauche.

Pushing past her annoyance and trying her key in the lock - she was almost surprised to find the locks hadn't been changed - she stepped inside and shivered at the first wave of ice-cold air conditioning that cut through the heat from the outside. 

"Fallon?" She called, pulling her suitcases along to the bottom of the stairs. It was quiet - the sort of still quiet that came from being completely alone - but Kirby abandoned her luggage and decided to take a closer look herself just in case.

The game room, main sitting room, and kitchen were all empty - poking her head into Fallon's office and their bedroom revealed that she wasn't there either. The unobscured view of the back yard from the main bathroom looked much less refreshing than usual; they'd barely used the space since moving in - the lawn was an embarrassing waste of space.

Checking her phone, Kirby realized it was only about to be five o'clock - no wonder Fallon wasn't waiting at home. She wondered just how productive the woman could even be if her life was even half as rearranged as Kirby's had become. 

Just as she headed back downstairs to decide if she should bother unpacking or not - would that be presumptuous? - the front door clicked open and Fallon marched inside, eyes down at the screen of her phone in her hand. Frozen on the second last step, Kirby stared at her as she set her purse down beside the door, then jumped in surprise as she looked up.

"Kirby - shit."

"Sorry," she replied, feeling a magnetic pull towards the other woman despite the anxiousness and dread. She hadn't seen her in so long that to actually have her in front of her again, she felt like scrapping the entire conversation and just pulling her back into her arms. The moment passed, though, and Fallon clasped her hands together in front of herself, straightening her stance in the foyer as she looked up at her.

"You're here."

It was a nothing observation, but Fallon's tone still carried so much weight to it that Kirby shrunk into herself a little in reaction.

"Do you want to have that talk, now?" She asked.

"Is there anything you need to say?" Fallon asked. Her voice was already defensive; almost cold. It was so uncaring that Kirby felt every hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

"I just -"

"Let me word that a little better," Fallon cut her off. "Is there anything you need to tell me?"

Kirby watched her, trying not to wince.

"You know about the shoot ending early."

"You must think I'm a fucking idiot," Fallon breathed, laughing humorlessly under her breath. Kirby stood to her full height as if steeling herself for a brawl. Fallon's anger could be a little easier to deal with than her hurt; it didn't run as deep below the surface, and could usually be resolved in some way or another fairly quickly, as opposed to her feelings that were rooted in insecurity or sadness. It was hot - and sometimes even scary - but Kirby had seen it more than once, and with the confidence that the other woman wasn't going to literally swing on her, she knew at the very least that nothing would be left unsaid by either of them. "How could you have possibly thought I wasn't going to find out?"

"I didn't think that far, I just - I needed some time, and -"

"How much fucking time, Kirby?" Fallon cut her off again. "How much more time and space can I possibly give you? Don't answer that, we both know."

Kirby waited for her to finish speaking before trying again.

"I just knew that once I came back... home, to you, that this conversation was the first thing we'd need to do," she gestured between them. "And I had some other things to work on, first. I needed to do some housekeeping before we had this talk because we both know what the outcome is."

"And what's that?"

"That we realize we can't do this anymore." She could hear how soft her own voice was becoming on its own accord. Fallon had made herself larger, and Kirby shrunk down to make room - it was almost comforting just because of its grounding feeling of familiarity, at least.

Fallon laughed derisively, then shook her head.

"So your  _ 'housekeeping' _ . You were what, finding a new place?"

Kirby felt her heart drop and inhaled sharply. She'd known it was coming - she'd just said so herself - but hearing it out loud from someone else was a shock she hadn't been prepared for.

"I - didn't get that far," she replied honestly.

"So let me get this straight," Fallon snapped. "You lie about where in the world you are, to avoid me, then spend what, like, a week just getting high or blackout drunk or whatever it is that caused you to worry  _ Liam _ \- who basically talks to burnouts and junkies for a living - and in that time you do no planning? What did you think was going to happen here? You'd come back and tell me you assumed we were going to break up, but maybe I'd stop you? Tell you not to go?"

"I know you're upset -" Kirby started.

"No, I'm livid," she corrected. "And frankly, embarrassed. You made me look  _ so  _ stupid - and unprofessional, trying to balance my clients that are actually  _ doing their jobs,  _ and make sure you weren't facedown in a pile of your own vomit because you needed to dramatically feel bad for yourself for just a little bit longer."

"Fallon, enough." Kirby was surprised by the strength in her own voice, for a moment. The other woman  _ did  _ fall quiet, though, so she powered through. "There was a moment, when I was finally telling Liam about... about everything. About Alice, and what happened that night, and our entire relationship - I realized it could end my career - it could end everything for me. But I wasn't scared, I was relieved. I love my job; I love  _ you  _ \- but it was so invigorating to tell the truth. I feel like I've been waiting for a chance to do it for so long, but I didn't know how to ask for it."

"I didn't -" Fallon's volume had lowered by the time she spoke again. "I didn't want any of this to happen."

Stepping down from the last couple of stairs, Kirby took both of her hands and felt her immediately stiffen defensively in response.

"I didn't either."

She raised one hand to her face, pressing her lips to her knuckles before letting her go and turning her attention to her suitcases, instead.

If Fallon was endeared, she didn't show it.

"Where are you going to stay?"

"How bad is it going to be if I stay here for a little bit?" Kirby asked, trying to catch her eye.

Fallon coughed, shaking her head quickly.

"No - you... I don't want to do that. I can't stay with you, right now, I'm sorry."

"Fallon, we have guest rooms," Kirby pointed out, feeling her sad defeat slip away into annoyance for a moment.

"I'm not staying with you," Fallon replied, a little more bluntly, before seeming to grow a sudden sense of empathy. "How long do you need to find a place?"

Reeling, Kirby shook her head and chuckled humorlessly.

"A week, maybe, at the most."

"Okay," Fallon looked more resigned, now. She'd put the walls back up, and this time, Kirby was out of tools to break them back down. "I can do a week. I'll go stay at my family's place in the meantime. It'll give you time to... pack and get everything in order."

Kirby's ears were ringing so loudly she barely processed what the other woman said, but nodded nonetheless. 

Breaking up was one thing - moving out made everything feel much more finite. 

"This is really happening," she mumbled aloud. Fallon, who had grabbed her purse and slid past the actress to head toward the stairs, stopped and turned around to face her.

"What did you expect, Kirby?" She gave her a last once-over, and Kirby watched with mild horror as the sad, sympathetic look on her face morphed into cold, businesslike disinterest. "You should be relieved."


	29. Chapter 29

Kirby and Fallon successfully managed to peacefully give each other space for the next couple of days, and Fallon filled as much of her schedule as possible with Liam, almost to the point of ignoring Scarlett and Will. She blamed it on needing something constant to keep her out of the house as much as possible. Hiding out in the Carrington estate not only felt like defeat, but it also came with the lack of her privacy, and of course, being forced to see Cristal and Blake without warning.

By day three, Fallon had to bring her again to confer with Liam, and had needed to lock herself in her bedroom to avoid being overheard by any of the staff.

"Fallon?"

"Hi," she breathed into the phone, trying to keep her volume down. 

"What're you calling for?" Kirby asked, obvious defensiveness in her tone.

"Because I'm your publicist," she replied shortly. "Liam said you never answered his email about coming in to the office today?"

"I - no," Kirby sighed heavily. "I forgot to. I'll be there if you still need me."

"We do," Fallon replied lightly. "We're going to go over a couple of game plans for this article, and then I can get started on a schedule for your awards campaign."

She could picture the preemptively, pouty look on the other woman's face even through the phone.

"Alright. I might be a few minutes late, but I'll be there. I just need to finish up some stuff here, and then..."

She trailed off, and Fallon closed her eyes, leaning against the closed bedroom door for a moment. The 'here' in question was their house - or rather, Fallon's house, now. 

"Okay. Call me if anything changes," she replied, waiting for her confirmation before hanging up the phone and sighing to herself. 

Not giving herself much time to think too hard - something she'd been doing since their official breakup in the foyer a few days prior - Fallon turned on her heel and wrenched the bedroom door open. The sound of heels clicking down the hallway made her roll her eyes - probably Cristal, pretending she hadn't been lurking outside the door trying to figure out what was going on.

She didn't need to be at the office to meet with Liam and Kirby for at least an hour and a half, and her temporary move back home meant that it took even less time to commute to the office, but Fallon couldn't stand the stifling energy of the house any longer. Worse than Cristal or Blake's obvious air of 'I knew this would happen' was the genuine sympathy that she could feel radiating off of them both, even Blake. 

Managing to escape out the front door without being seen by anyone on her way, Fallon climbed into her car and started it, giving herself a few moments of calming breathing before starting down the long driveway.

Her phone started to ring before she even made it to the main road, and she tried to rearrange her features into a smile that she hoped would translate in her tone as she saw Scarlett's name on the screen of her dash.

"Fallon Carrington," she chirped, trying not to wince at her own bogus peppiness.

"Hey, girl!" Scarlett's voice filled the car like a breath of fresh air, ripping through the bad vibes that Fallon had been radiating for weeks. "Just wanted to check in again about the party tonight. You sure you don't want to ride along with us?"

Right, the wrap party. Still only referred to as the Untitled Genie McCarty Project, the director had promised to reveal the final title at the event that night to the cast and crew only - it was exclusive enough information that Fallon had been faxed an NDA the day before. 

"No, no," Fallon insisted. "That's okay - you guys have your own thing going on, I don't want to get in the way. I'll meet you there, alright?"

"If you're sure," Scarlett sighed, sounding disappointed but not too upset. "I'm excited! Are you excited?"

"Totally," Fallon lied. She pulled into traffic and groaned inwardly as she realized that the lines of vehicles were at a standstill. "Scarlett, I have to call you back, I'm on my way into the office."

"No problem!" She replied happily. "I'll see you tonight.  _ Bye!~ _ "

The car fell into silence again and Fallon rested her forehead against the steering wheel tiredly for a moment.

As preemptively tired as she was about the meeting she was heading to, the wrap party would be a good chance to make a few more contacts, and keeping Scarlett in her court would be helpful if Liam's article tanked Kirby's career entirely. She tried to think of the positives, despite the weight of all of the compounded negatives that were stacking up against her.

It took her almost the full hour and a half to reach the office, given the traffic, and Fallon felt sweaty and exhausted by the time she stepped into the lobby. Liam was already waiting for her, but after one look at her, taking in her visibly grumpy demeanor, he chose to stay silent as they headed into the elevators together.

"Kirby said she might be running late," Fallon told him as the doors opened on her floor. She started to walk without waiting for him to follow, ignoring the odd looks she was receiving from the other people working that she passed. She knew her slightly disheveled, damp appearance wasn't her best look, but knowing she'd get to take a long shower and freshen up before the party later made her feel a little better.

"Oh, everything okay?" Liam asked. Fallon turned to him as she opened her office door, mirroring his furrowed brow.

"She's moving," she told him shortly, stepping into the office. He stayed frozen outside for a moment, clearly processing, before following her in.

"Oh, I'm - I'm sorry, Fallon."

"Yeah, me too," she replied stiffly, taking her seat behind her desk and gesturing to one of the chairs opposite for him to sit as well. "I'll print out a copy of your last draft for reference."

She ignored the way he was watching her in concern as she pulled up her email and tracked down the last message Liam had sent with the attached article. She was already so tired of the pity - it had been a breakup, not an Oscar loss. She would be back on her feet in no time.

Just as she wheeled her chair back to grab the pages from her printer, a knock at the door pulled both her and Liam's attention, and she felt the color leave her face at the sight of Kirby.

It was almost like the redhead had known what Fallon expected her to look like, and done the complete opposite. If she was suffering, it didn't show. Her hair was so shiny it was practically reflective, and the smokey-eye, red-lip makeup combo she wore looked professionally done. 

"Sorry I'm late," she greeted, stepping in and taking the empty seat next to Liam's. "I had some friends by helping with... everything." Kirby's eyes flicked to Liam and then back to Fallon, clearly not sure how much the man had been filled in on about her and Fallon. 

The idea of strangers in their house -  _ her _ house - made Fallon bristle instantly, but she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying anything. Knowing Kirby, that might have been an intentional trap to get a reaction out of her. Staying quiet was a better bet.

"Right," Fallon cleared her throat, then slid the small pile of paper across her desk toward the other woman as she took her own seat again. "So, this is the last draft, if you want to just check it one more time."

Kirby flipped through it disinterestedly for a moment, then glanced up at the pair of them watching her quietly.

"What?" She chuckled, shaking her head a little. Adjusting the strap of her crop top absentmindedly, she turned her attention back to the pages and hummed to herself casually. She was far too put-together to not be dressing out of revenge, but with everything going on, regret about ending things was the farthest thing from Fallon's mind.

"I mean," Kirby finally spoke, tossing the pages gently back onto the desk surface. "It's fine. I knew it would be."

"You're still okay with all of this?" Liam prodded. Fallon gritted her teeth in frustration at him for giving Kirby the chance to back out at all, but thankfully Kirby just nodded in response.

"I told you while you were writing it. This is good. I'm... ready for this."

Liam stood up from his seat, after a moment. 

"Alright. I'm going to just go and let Ashley know that we can get it in rotation, and then I'll be back to talk scheduling." He stared at both Fallon and Kirby for a moment, as if waiting just one more moment for protest, then nodded and headed for the door.

Kirby turned her attention to Fallon as he left, eyeing her up and down for a moment before a tiny smirk appeared on her face, pulling at the corner of her mouth. Fallon set her jaw; no matter how hard she'd fought to keep some of her secrets to herself over the years, Kirby was always famously efficient when it came to getting under her skin.

"You look tired," she told her, her tone shamelessly smug, not concerned.

Chuckling at her nerve alone, Fallon shook her head and then looked down at the article on her desk, busying herself with painstakingly straightening each sheet.

"I think... this is a weird enough transition for us as is," she finally spoke. "Maybe let’s call a truce, for now. The Oscar campaign is going to be pretty brutal - especially after this," she tapped the article. 

"Maybe this isn't the best year for that," Kirby suggested. When Fallon looked up at her again, she wasn't wearing the same smug, bitchy look anymore. Still, it didn't do anything to stop the sudden anger that hit Fallon like a splash of hot water.

"That's... unacceptable."

Kirby snorted, and Fallon narrowed her eyes at her in a sharp glare.

“When this season is over, you can find a new publicist. I don’t care. But you are  _ not _ ruining this for me - not this time. Frankly, it’s the least you could do - you  _ owe  _ me.”

“I  _ owe _ you?” Kirby repeated, a smile pulling at her features and making Fallon want to slap it off of her face. “Fallon, you kicked me out of our house.”

“We broke up!” Fallon couldn’t help but let her anger seep out into her words, trying desperately to rein it in before speaking again. “You lied to me. A lot.”

“Right, because you were so honest and forthcoming for the last couple of years,” Kirby chuckled, leaning back in her seat and rolling her eyes as she looked away.

Glancing up at the door to the office, Fallon closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

“We are not doing this right now,” she hissed. “You’re not dropping out of the awards circuit. I - I really need this.”

Kirby glared at her, silent, before her features softened and she dropped her gaze again.

“Fine. But only because I know how pissed off your dad will be. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

She was clearly trying to get some kind of emotional reaction out of her - a ‘thank you’ or maybe just softening up to her - but Fallon kept her expression blank and shrugged.

“Thanks.”

Huffing under her breath, but letting the subject drop, Kirby crossed her arms and slumped back into her chair, only looking up again when Liam reentered the room.

Fallon stayed quiet as the two of them spoke together, with Liam trying to work out the speed of distribution and additional promotion that Kirby would be comfortable with, only interjecting to make notes about the resources that they did - or didn’t - have at their disposal at Carrington to help. Kirby never met Fallon’s eye once when she spoke, but she was too tired from their almost-argument about the awards season to muster the strength to be upset by it. 

The three of them fell into a lull of discussion after another fifteen minutes, and it was Kirby who broke it, slapping her hands down to her thighs and standing up from her seat.

"Anyone for a drink?"

"I have to get back across town," Liam replied gently, glancing worriedly at Fallon for a moment, who only shook her head in response.

"No." It was a blunt, short reply, but Kirby didn't seem upset - or surprised. "I have to get ready for something."

"Hot date?" Kirby asked. It was petty, and while Fallon really didn't want to stoop to her level, she couldn't help it.

"Yeah," she replied, getting up from her own seat and gathering up the article, tucking them into her bag. "I'm going to Genie McCarty's wrap party - Scarlett invited me."

Kirby visibly stiffened; Fallon felt a victorious surge of power surge through her.

"Call me tomorrow, if anything changes," she told Liam, smiling sweetly before turning to Kirby again. "And you let me know if there's anything else you need."

Not giving her a chance to respond, she made her way to the door, holding it open and gesturing impatiently for the pair of them to head out. Scrambling up, likely grateful for an escape from the thick tension in the room, Liam gave her a quick nod as he passed, all but jogging down the hallway to the elevators.

Kirby passed her next, too close for comfort, and shot her a sharp glare before shaking her head.

"Bye, Kirby!" She trilled, closing the door so quickly that the redhead barely made it out. 

Leaning against the closed door, Fallon hummed contently to herself, and then retrieved her phone from the desk in preparation to leave.

* * *

Standing outside of the doors of the hotel lobby, Fallon was uncomfortably reminded of how many times she'd been in the same position, waiting for Kirby to finish a cigarette.

The evening had cooled down considerably, which was a merciful change from the stifling heat of the afternoon, even if it made Fallon bundle herself into her jacket a little further and cram her hands into her pockets with a shiver.

She had been a little early, which was embarrassing enough, but standing outside to wait for Scarlett because she knew she didn't have the clearance to go in yet was even worse. Still, anywhere was better than the Carrington estate - even the cold outdoors.

A sleek stretch limo pulled up to the curb, and Fallon felt a wave of relief when the door was opened to reveal Scarlett, and a few other cast members that Fallon recognized from her set visit but couldn't recall the names of.

"Fallon! Oh my god, were you waiting long?"

"No," she lied, shaking her head and waving one hand. Her teeth chattered but she gritted them together as Scarlett approached before she could notice. "I just got here, thought I'd wait for you."

Scarlett linked their arms together, turning them towards the doors and beaming at her. Fallon could feel that she was practically vibrating with excitement, and the jaded voice in the back of her head pondered how long this kind of enthusiasm would last once the movie was released and Scarlett became an overnight sensation. How many parties would she need to attend before she realized that they were all the same? How many before it became a chore, like it was for Fallon that very night?

Milling around awkwardly as their group approached the desk and received their elevator codes, Fallon tried not to look too out of place among the other actors and actresses that all knew each other, joking and laughing together.

The penthouse was in full swing when they arrived - it was considerably rowdier than Fallon had been expecting, but she appreciated the energy, if only for the distraction and the way it gave her the ability to blend in.

"I promise I won't abandon you," Scarlett grinned, leading her to the bar. "I just need to do one lap, and then I'll be back. Okay?"

Fallon chuckled, leaning against the bar and waiting for the mixologist's attention. 

"I'm not a recluse," she promised. "I'll be fine. Go have fun. We'll catch up in a bit."

Smiling gratefully, Scarlett squeezed her arm, then vanished into the crowd.

Taking in the sights around her, Fallon let the fake smile slowly slip from her face, only perking up when the bartender reached her and took her drink order. She knew she needed to keep a relatively level head - she'd have a single glass of wine to loosen up, and then, later, a drink with Scarlett to bond over. Taking her glass with her as she left the bar, Fallon kept an eye out for Genie, and then slowly began to integrate herself into the crowd, trying not to look like she was schmoozing too hard.

It wasn't until she'd been pulled into a conversation with a handful of production assistants - her personal hell - that Fallon had her first real need for a 'break'.

She'd tuned out a lot of the discussion, but the man to her right's words shocked her out of her low-grade dissociation.

"You just have to keep your ear to the ground," he said. "And befriend sound guys. I got the full shoot of  _ The Last Fire _ just because I'd talked to one of the sound guys about Star Wars for like half an hour on some student pilot that never made it to air, and he recommended me."

"Excuse me," Fallon cleared her throat, smiling apologetically before stepping away. She suddenly felt hot, the back of her neck prickling uncomfortably. She weaved through the crowd towards the balcony, and despite the crowd outside smoking and socializing, she felt like she could breathe more easily, finding an empty corner to lean over the railing and distract herself with the view of the city.

"Carrington."

Whirling around in alarm, Fallon blinked as Genie approached her.

"... Hi."

"You don't strike me as the 'hiding outside alone at a party' type," Genie told her, coming closer still and then leaning back against the railing beside her. 

"Oh?" Fallon asked, turning to lean on the railing again. She felt tense, like she was expecting the other woman to suddenly attack her, or undercut her verbally. Normally, it wouldn't do more than annoy her, but she was feeling particularly vulnerable, given everything from the last few days, and wasn't sure she would be able to handle any more anger. Maybe Scarlett hadn't been exaggerating how much Genie had warmed up to Fallon, after all. "What did I strike you as, then?"

Genie clicked her tongue thoughtfully, then shrugged.

"I'm not sure. But not this."

Humming thoughtfully, Fallon turned her attention back to the view.

"I wanted to thank you, actually," Genie continued. "For the Fangoria piece."

Fallon could feel the other woman trying. 'Seeking approval' was not a feeling she'd generally associate with someone like Genie McCarty, with a career built on innovation and refusal to allow any corporate censorship to touch her work. A lot of people had been proving to be not quite what Fallon had pictured them as, though, lately.

"It was really no problem," Fallon replied, wondering why she was bothering to downplay it. "I hadn't been in contact with them before. It was mutually beneficial."

Genie chuckled quietly, but before Fallon could ask what was funny, she turned to her fully.

"Can I get you another drink?" She nodded to Fallon's mostly empty wine glass, but she shook her head.

"I'm taking it slow tonight."

"Alright," Genie replied easily, righting herself and giving Fallon a quick, if not dismissive smile. "I have a title to announce. I'll see you inside, Carrington."

Fallon turned to watch her leave, and despite everyone else from the balcony following after her, excited for the big reveal, Fallon stayed in her place, enjoying the quiet she was left in once she was alone. 

The skyline view was stunning, but it reminded Fallon too much of her office - and how many times she'd seen that similar view on the night sky in the last few years. Staying at work for such long hours was a habit she'd been in the process of trying to break for Kirby's sake, and the sake of their personal relationship together - it was ironic that now it was a habit that was saving her from spiralling in the wake of it all ending.

"Fallon, hey, I thought you'd like, left or something!" Scarlett's voice behind her startled her out of her train of thought. How long had she been standing out there, alone? Turning around fully, she could see through the glass doors that the party was back in full swing again.

"Oh, no - I just needed some air, for a minute." She could see the sudden concern that her words had caused the actress, and backtracked. "I think I dressed too warm. Everything okay?" 

Turning her concern back on her seemed to do the trick, and Scarlett lit up happily at the question.

"Yeah, of course! Let’s go back inside, I want to introduce you to everyone," she insisted, linking their arms again and smiling brightly at her as she led them back through the doors.

They did a lap around the room together, and Fallon couldn't help but feel surprisingly embarrassed at how much Scarlett fawned over her. She'd almost think it was overkill, except everyone listened to her, clinging onto her every word as if what she said was gospel. Her effect on the room and everyone in it was as clear as day.

"Excuse me, Fallon is my date tonight," she informed one of the assistant directors, drawing Fallon's attention back to the conversation at hand instead of just watching the faces of the people around them. Scarlett still had their arms pretzeled together, standing close enough to Fallon that she could smell her perfume - and the light hint of citrus from the low-alcohol fruity cocktails that she'd been carefully nursing since they arrived.

"Speaking of," Fallon pulled her arm free slowly, "Let me get you another drink."

Scarlett frowned as Fallon slipped away towards the bar, taking a few minutes to breathe before gesturing back at the actress.

"Whatever she was having. Another one, please."

As they walked away to prepare her drink, Fallon moved to sit on the closest barstool, just settling in when Scarlett materializing beside her startled her.

"Okay, spill. What's wrong?"

Fallon, calming her heart rate, turned to her.

"What? I'm fine."

"No," Scarlett insisted, "You aren't. I'm not going to have a good time tonight if I'm worried about you, so now you have to tell me what's going on?"

Something about her warning was so soft around the edges that it made Fallon want to melt. It wasn't a real guilt-trip - it was raw sympathy.

"I'm just distracted. It's been a weird week, I'm starting another awards campaign, and there's this big piece coming out about one of my other clients, so my head is just... fuzzy."

She tried to downplay it, but clearly hadn't done a good enough job, because Scarlett quickly climbed onto the barstool next to her, her eyes never leaving Fallon's.

"I'm sorry - I know you've had a lot going on, but I thought coming tonight would make you feel better," she promised. Fallon could tell that she meant it, too. "You should have said something."

"It wouldn't have made a difference," she replied, watching confusion morph the other woman's features, and then elaborating, "I'm... sort of going through a weird breakup, right now. It's just been kind of confusing to figure out the logistics."

"You and Kirby broke up?" Scarlett reared back, shocked. Before Fallon could ask her to keep her voice down, or assure her that it was okay, the blonde leaned forward and closed the space between them, pulling Fallon into a surprisingly strong hug. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

She seemed more outwardly upset than Fallon did, pulling back and frowning at her in such an exaggerated manner that it was almost comical.

“It’s okay -”

“Are you doing okay? Oh my god,” Scarlett covered her mouth with one hand, looking like she was nearly about to cry. It was almost a pleasant distraction from her own feelings, until she reached out and planted one hand on Fallon’s thigh. “If you need anything, please let me know, okay?”

Her thumb brushed over her knee slowly, and Fallon yanked back like she’d been burned.

“I -”

The bartender returned at that moment, handing Scarlett her new drink. 

Fallon watched her face as she accepted it with a smile, taking a long sip. Had she imagined that? Scarlett didn’t seem to even notice. Either way, she’d have to sort out whatever Scarlett’s deal was sooner rather than later. Now seemed like a better time than any - while she still had the excuse of being emotionally compromised to shield her from having mixed up the signals.

“Do you want to go down to the lobby for a drink, instead?” She asked. “Somewhere quieter, so we can talk?”

Scarlett shook her head, answering quickly.

“I shouldn’t leave, yet. I still haven’t said ‘hi’ to everyone. You wanna come with?”

Fallon sighed, fiddling absentmindedly with the hem of her jacket before shaking her head.

“No, I’m - I’m going to get that drink. I’ll catch up later on, okay?”

“Whatever you need, like I said,” Scarlett promised, reaching over and squeezing her hand before sliding down from her own bar stool.

Frowning to herself as she slipped out of the party - hopefully unnoticed - Fallon ignored the headache that she could feel brewing in her temples and stepped into the elevator.

The bar was completely empty - not even a bartender - but Fallon hadn’t really been in the mood for a drink, anyway. Settling into an empty seat, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through her emails and texts - but there was no new news to speak of. It was almost eerie - usually there was  _ something _ \- but just as she went to double-check that she hadn’t lost service, a reflection in the mirror behind the liquor shelves caught her eye.

Whirling around in her seat to stare at the other woman, she tucked her phone back into her pocket and cocked her head to the side.

_ “What’re you doing here?” _


	30. Chapter 30

“Kirby - hey, I didn't realize you were coming in today."

Stopping in her tracks, Kirby whirled around on her heel and forced a polite, if not tense smile as Cristal approached her in the lobby.

"Fallon needed to go over something for Popnosis," she explained, watching as the other woman's face shifted from pleasant to surprised. "I'm just on my way out."

"Well, I'm glad I caught you," she continued. "As I'm sure you know, it's been a great year for Carrington, and we wanted to celebrate. We're going to throw a party at the end of the week, and I know it's short notice, but the response has been good so far. Should I have Jeff put it in your calendar?"

Kirby watched her warily for a moment.

"A party," she repeated.

"A company party," Cristal clarified, her smile not faltering for even a moment. "Saturday."

"I'm actually moving into my new place on Saturday," Kirby replied honestly. 

"Oh," Cristal paused, pursing her lips as she tried to figure out how to tactfully respond. Kirby saved her the trouble.

"Y'know, I should be done by the evening. It'll be nice to de-stress, anyway. I'll be there. You said there's been... good response so far? Everyone's going?"

Cristal eyed her, then nodded.

"Yeah. The entire staff has already RSVP'd 'yes'." 

The implication wasn't lost on Kirby.

"Alright. Well, I have to meet with some friends, so -" she gestured behind herself to the doors, and Cristal nodded quickly.

"Right, of course. I'll let you go."

Smiling stiffly again, Kirby turned around to leave, stopping again when Cristal called for her one more time.

"Kirby," she smiled - much more sympathetically, this time - when she caught her eye. "For what it's worth, I think you're both handling this whole thing really well."

"I'm glad you think that," she replied, feeling immediately guilty for her sarcastic, bitter tone. Cristal had never been anything but nice to her, but it was hard now to see her as a colleague, as opposed to her ex-girlfriend's stepmother. 

"See you Saturday," Cristal replied, turning to head back to the elevators.

* * *

Allison's return to town had been a godsend for helping Kirby move into her new apartment. She'd realized just how few friends she still had in the city the morning after Fallon had temporarily moved out of their house to give her space to get her things in order. A combination of a rush-service moving company and Allison's help had Kirby packed up and ready by the end of the week, though, just like she'd promised Fallon. Finding a furnished apartment had been another monster entirely, and the options that she did find were so depressing compared to the combined life that she and Fallon had decorated that by the time Kirby was settled into her final choice, she'd wanted to stay in for the rest of the night crying and feeling sorry for herself.

Allison had given her a pep talk, though - another godsend - and by the time they were standing in Kirby's new bathroom getting ready together, she felt much more confident about the evening.

The decision to bring a plus-one was risky, but Kirby wasn't sure if asking Cristal - and potentially warning Fallon ahead of time - was a good idea. 

They arrived fashionably late, and Kirby sent Allison off to mingle, hoping that the new contacts would be good compensation for all of her help throughout the week. The party was in full swing already, and Kirby squinted around, trying to take inventory of everyone that she recognized.

Cristal had been right about a good response. Kirby had never even been at The Standard Hotel before, but looking around at it now, she felt like that she had missed out. It looked like something out of a movie, with a central elevator and stunning full-360 views. 

Grabbing a flute of champagne from a passing server's tray, Kirby took a tentative sip and tried to hold her head high as she walked further out into the party. Anyone she recognized would have been a welcome companion to avoid looking too alone - Allison had taken off so quickly once she had her blessing that she'd been a blur. Pursing her lips in thought and squinting as she scanned the tables and couches pressed against one of the nearby windows, Kirby groaned inwardly as she immediately saw someone she knew.

Leaning out of her seat any almost completely into the other woman's, Scarlett grinned as Fallon cupped a hand to her ear to speak to her under the sounds of the music and the chatter. Pulling back with a laugh that cut through the noise, Scarlett grabbed the other woman's knee as if she'd said the funniest thing she'd ever heard. Kirby felt the uncomfortable itch of the idea that it had been something to do with her, but neither woman even looked in her direction as they continued their conversation.

Squashing the feeling and taking a deep breath, Kirby turned on her heel and headed towards the bar to get her hands on something stronger than champagne.

Sidling up to the bar and grabbing a seat, Fallon gestured at the shelf of bottles and cleared her throat.

"Hey, yeah. Just give me... whatever vodka. Straight."

She slammed the entirety of her champagne, feeling it burn pleasantly in the pit of her empty stomach. Eyeing her but not questioning it, the bartender pulled down a bottle of Belvedere and held it up. Nodding and resisting the urge to ask for the entire thing, - it was cheap enough, anyway - Kirby glanced around at her surroundings again.

"Look who it is." Will's voice behind her startled her, and she whirled around, lighting up at the sight of him.

"Oh, thank god," she breathed, patting the seat next to her. "Please, sit. Drink with me."

Raising an eyebrow, glancing between the bartender and the actress before sitting, Will cleared his throat.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she lied, before adding honestly, "Just got a new place. I should be celebrating."

"Oh?" Will sat, finally, looking hopeful. "Whereabouts?"

Gesturing vaguely at the opposite side of the room, Kirby smiled sweetly as the bartender slid her a tumbler, then chuckled at its contents.

"Sorry, I'm going to need a little more than that. How about I just say 'when'?"

Eyes flicking between Kirby and Will, then to the bottle in his hands, the bartender seemed to weigh his options, then topped her glass up a little more.

"Keep going."

Sighing and pouring until the glass was a little over half-full, the bartender glanced up at Kirby questioningly, and she waved him away mercifully.

"Thanks," she said dismissively, turning to Will again. "Anyway, you should come see it, one of these days. Cutest little one-bedroom bachelorette pad in downtown LA."

Will, who had been watching her drink being 'made' in concern, looked from the glass to her face, and uncomfortable realization dawned on his face.

"Oh, Kirby. I'm sorry." 

Snorting humorlessly, then taking a small sip from the tumbler with a wince, Kirby flapped one hand and then glanced back at where Fallon and Scarlett were still sitting - either truly oblivious to her presence or intentionally ignoring her.

"I'm fine. I'm not throwing myself at the first little wannabe Megan Fox I run into, unlike some people."

Will's eyes had moved to Fallon but snapped back to Kirby's face as she turned to him again.

"It'll work out," he told her, growing visibly uncomfortable. She felt anger bubbling up in her chest but it only fueled her.

"Think so?"

Moving to slide down from his seat instead of answering as Kirby took a more generous sip from her glass, Will reached out and squeezed her arm gently, clearly trying to find an out.

"Yeah. We'll catch up later, okay?"

"No, noooo, come on," she groaned, reaching out and grabbing his hand as he turned to go. "Seriously, I'm going to look pathetic drinking alone."

Leaning in close to her ear, Will spoke lowly, cutting through the background noise of the party.

" _ Then maybe stop drinking _ ."

She'd never been on the receiving end of such a stern tone from him, but it made her feel immediately 'told', stiffening in reaction and feeling ice-cold sobriety wash over her for a single, lucid moment. Will left without another word, and Kirby turned her attention back to Fallon.

She looked so relaxed and content. At first, Kirby would have assumed it was an act; trying to look professional and unbothered, especially with her coworkers, but watching her laughing genuinely and sipping champagne while she and Scarlett talked with other guests, Kirby realized it was authentic. She was comfortable.

With only a small surge of guilt, Kirby realized just how annoyed that concept made her.

She  _ had _ to have moved on already. If not with Scarlett, then with someone else, for sure, but the way that the blonde leaned into Fallon every time she laughed, and stared at her while she talked, convinced Kirby that the most obvious answer was the correct one.

Sipping from her vodka until it was empty, Kirby stood up and shakily moved to go over to them. She should at least say 'hello' to Fallon - it was awkward and petty not to. Awkward and petty were perfectly fine for Scarlett, though. Realizing that she was considerably drunker than she'd been before she sat down, Kirby took a moment to center herself, straightening her posture and focusing her vision. 

Starting towards them, Kirby glanced over as the door slid open and Jeff appeared, smiling as she caught his eye before her blood turned cold. 

Following behind Jeff stood a man that Kirby only recognized from photos. His figure was even larger and more intimidating in person, Lewd, Alice's old producer, stood in the doorway and surveyed the crowd.

Spinning around quickly before she could be recognized, Kirby realized she'd been holding her breath and tried to calm herself down, swiftly making her way towards the door to the balcony. Digging in her purse for her cigarettes, the redhead shouldered the glass door open and stepped out into the cool air, breathing a small sigh of relief.

She hadn't expected the night to take the turn that it had. She'd known that it may not be the most  _ fun _ evening out that she'd had in a while, but between Fallon and Scarlett doing whatever  _ that _ was, Will being unimpressed with her, and now potentially having a run-in with someone from Alice's past, Kirby was beginning to consider trying to rappel down the side of the building and make her escape. Allison was still nowhere to be seen, and Kirby could only hope that her night was going a little more smoothly.

Turning around and realizing that there was yet another bar outside, Kirby made her way over and did her best impression of her sober self as she ordered a shot. This new bartender was wonderfully judgment-free, and as she threw back the double ounce glass of whiskey, Kirby felt herself loosening up. She still needed to talk to Fallon, and doing that would be a perfectly good way to keep her too busy to accidentally bump into Lewd.

Peering through the windows into the party, Kirby kept an eye out for Lewd, then sighed in relief when he was nowhere to be seen in her path back to where Fallon and Scarlett had been. Sneaking back inside slowly, she clutched her purse tighter and started back towards the couches, trying to remember exactly where she'd seen them. Fallon was nowhere in sight - but Scarlett was, sitting alone and tapping away at her phone screen with a concentrated look. It was possibly the first time that Kirby had seen her without that sickly sweet smile on her face.

“Hey,” she greeted, wandering closer and nodding to the other woman as she looked up in surprise. “Where’s Fallon?”

For a moment, Kirby could see the other actress perfectly clearly. She squinted up at the redhead ever so slightly, assessing the danger of the situation and deciding on fight, flight, or freeze. For a moment, she looked ready to pick a fight, but then her face softened and she furrowed her brow in concerned confusion.

"She said she needed to take a call. D'you want to sit down?"

"Not particularly," Kirby sniffed. She crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side, staring the other woman down. "Did she say where she was taking this call?"

"She didn't," Scarlett replied, jutting her lower lip out in the most ingenuine pout of sympathy that Kirby had ever seen.  _ Wasn't she supposed to be some incredible up-and-coming actress? Huh. _ "I did see  _ your  _ date looking a little lonely, though. I'm sure she'd love it if you wanted to focus on her."

Adrenaline shook Kirby's fingers, but she ignored the tremor and pulled her lips into her mouth, nodding slowly as she carefully considered her next words.

"Allison isn't my date, she's my friend."

"It's a figure of speech, honey," Scarlett punctuated her words with a quick, bell-like laugh, then shook her head, letting her long curled hair fall around her shoulders. "Besides, it wouldn't mean any harm."

"Maybe not, but I still wouldn't parade some new girl around Fallon immediately after breaking up. Sort of trashy, in my opinion." Kirby eyed her up and down slowly, pointedly, and then quirked an eyebrow.

"Y'know," Scarlett almost cut her off, as if no sort of insult had been implied. "I'm actually so glad we're getting to talk - I read that article that came out about you, the one for Popnosis? Can I just say, I think it is  _ so _ brave that you finally came out about everything. I mean, the timing couldn't be better, either. I read some of the critics’ reviews on that album she has coming out - Alice? - and it sounds like it’s going to be amazing."

The smirk dropped from her face, and the ringing returned to Kirby's ears. 

"Excuse me?"

"The Alice album," Scarlett continued. The smile didn't move from her face, but her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "I heard its great. The one she wrote about you? And after reading that article, I just - wow. I never realized you two were so close. Fallon never talks about her; did she know about you guys, before all of this?"

Stepping forward before she could stop herself, Kirby glowered at the other woman and watched her shrink back into herself almost imperceptibly. 

"Don't you  _ ever _ talk about Alice again. Not to me, not to my girlfriend -"

" _ Kirby _ ."

Fallon’s voice cut through the fog of rage like a knife, and it felt like suddenly the clouds had parted in the sky. Turning around to face the other woman, Kirby caught herself by grabbing her arm, balancing back out and then tipsily giving her a pleading look.

"You are causing a scene," the brunette hissed, leaning in a little closer to speak to her before pulling back and smiling at a few other guests that chose that moment to walk past. "Come with me."

Pulling her arm surprisingly roughly, Fallon glanced back over her shoulder at Scarlett.

"Scarlett, I'll just be another minute."

"Don't worry about it, just make sure she's okay," Scarlett replied, and Kirby was tempted to snap at her for the intentional condescension, but Fallon pulled her away before she could.

"This cannot be happening," Fallon mumbled, mostly to herself as she led her toward the small hall that separated the elevator from the rest of the floor. "Will you  _ please _ grow up?"

She had turned her attention to Kirby, then, letting the door close behind her and effectively blocking out all of the background noise of the party. They were suddenly incredibly close to one another, and Kirby felt her breath catch in her throat. She knew that there was no way Fallon wasn't picking up on the combined scents of vodka and smoke on her.

"This is more of a scene, Fallon. People are going to talk if we don't go back in there." Kirby nodded to the door behind her.

Rolling her eyes, Fallon scoffed.

"You're going to stay out here for a few minutes, cool down, and see if you can't sober up. Here." She dug into her bag for a moment, pulling out a bottle of water, and handed it to her. "If you come back in there before you're ready to control yourself, I'm calling security. Do you understand?"

Kirby looked from the water bottle to the other woman's face, and stared at her, hard. It was incredibly unsettling to not be able to find any hint of concern or sympathy in her features. It was like every last bit of possible love had been drained.

"I understand. Sorry. She - she said something about Alice, and I just..." Kirby trailed off, taking the bottle and working at slowly twisting the cap off to distract herself from the feeling of Fallon watching her so closely.

When she refused to look up after another moment, the brunette left wordlessly. Slumping against the wall, Kirby sighed to herself and took a swig from the bottle, letting the ice-cold water center her and bring her focus back.

It really hadn't been her intention to cause a scene - at least not one where she looked like a mess, at least, or upset Fallon. She still wanted to kick Scarlett's ass, but that would be a focus for another time. 

Waiting alone until she'd finished the bottle of water, Kirby listened to the thudding of music through the door, and was just beginning to consider getting into the elevator and leaving altogether, abandoning Allison, when the lift dinged and the doors slid open.

Standing up straighter and attempting to look busy, distracted by a plaque on the wall as if it were the most interesting thing she'd ever seen, Kirby ignored the person who stepped out. They headed towards the door before she heard them pause.

"Kirby Anders?"

Glancing back over her shoulder, Kirby froze at the sight of Lewd, whirling the rest of the way around defensively before her eyes flicked to the closed door that separated them from the party.

He held a hand out, and she felt the threat begin to slip away.

“I’m Ludesco. I worked with Alice.”

“I know,” Kirby breathed, barely above a whisper.

"Right," he dropped his hand when she didn't take it, then stuffed it into his pocket. He looked much softer than she had thought, up close. Kinder, even. It was heavily quiet for a moment, before he nodded to her. "What're you doing out here by yourself?"

"I'm grounded," she replied bitterly, more honest than she'd meant to be.

He snorted at that, then fished in his pocket and pulled out a small cigarette case. Snapping it open, he pulled out a single, tightly rolled joint, and held it up in offering.

"You smoke weed?"

“No,” she lied, her eyes dropping to it for a moment. He eyed her, then shrugged and tucked it behind his ear.

“I’m going to go have this, then. You can join me if you want. I think you and I have some catching up to do.”

"I could use another cigarette," she admitted.

Reaching for the door, Lewd pulled it open and gestured for Kirby to step in first. Still reeling a little, she did, and then stepped aside once inside to let him lead the way. Fallon watched her as she crossed the room, the look on her face quickly shifting from tense anticipation to confused concern once she realized who Kirby was following. Determined not to give her any more reason to get upset, she avoided her gaze and followed Lewd out onto the balcony, and towards the ledge.

The cool air was refreshing, but it did little to ease the fear that Kirby clung onto while she regarded the man next to her. She'd managed to avoid him despite him coming to join the Carrington team, and now that she was faced with him, she had no idea what to say.

"I read your article." He spoke first, lighting the joint and taking a few quick puffs of it before turning his attention to her properly. She stayed quiet until he spoke again, "If I had known you were going to do that, maybe we could have collaborated on something. The critics already have the early release of the album - I would have waited until they read that piece about the two of you, first."

Kirby bristled. Treating the article as a publicity stunt wasn't unfair - that had been Fallon and Liam's intention, after all - but to her, it hadn't been like that.

"That's not why I did it," she told him.

"I can tell," he replied. She felt her tension begin to slip away. Alice had always talked so highly of him, and the way that he 'got' her. Kirby thought that Alice was a little too forgiving with most of the people in her life, but this was one reputation that she could see was well-earned.

"I'm sorry for your loss," she finally said. "I know you two were really close."

"I could say the same to you," he replied. "Full disclosure, if I'd never read that article, I'd probably still hate you. You must have one hell of a publicist."

She chuckled humorlessly, dropping his gaze and pulling a cigarette from her bag. 

"And you hated me because...?"

"Because I was sad - and I wanted to be angry."

She caught his eye again, and felt a sharp pain in her chest that vanished as soon as she processed it.

"Yeah, I know that feeling." Lighting her cigarette, she turned to face the view instead before taking a long drag. “I’ve been thinking about her a lot, lately.”

"She would have loved that," Lewd replied, without missing a beat. It was so painfully true that it wrung a laugh out of the actress, and then, it was like the floodgates had opened.

Her single laugh turned into giggling, and she dropped her barely-smoked cigarette onto the ground to use both hands to wipe away the tears that had immediately welled up in her eyes.

Offering her the joint again, wordlessly, Lewd raised an eyebrow when she took it from him, no longer pretending to protest.

"I'm tired of being angry," he told her.

"Me too," she sighed, getting herself under control and inhaling heavily, letting the smoke fill her cheeks and lungs and closing her eyes.

"Is that what got you grounded?" He asked, taking the joint back as she handed it over. "Being angry?"

She hummed.

"Not about Alice - well, actually..." She thought about Scarlett, and then Fallon, and shook her head. "I'm just angry in general."

She knew it was the combination of alcohol and weed that was making her so honest, but Lewd also had a sort of magnetizing pull to him that made her feel comfortable. It reminded her of Alice; it felt like talking to her for the first time in years.

"So? Why?" His question took Kirby by surprise, and she took a moment to process it before answering.

"I hate my new apartment. I'm too tired from this entire year to try to do an awards campaign but I have to do it because my publicist - also my ex - has this weird thing with her family, and even though she doesn't deserve it, I have to help. I feel like whenever I'm 'up', people are just waiting for the other shoe to drop, and never really trusting that I'm okay. The sympathy is stifling, but when I'm 'down', it’s nowhere to be found. Everyone just leaves me to it like, 'Well, we knew this was going to happen eventually'. Almost like they wanted it to."

Lewd handed her the joint once more.

"You dated your publicist?" 

His response was surprisingly playful, and it made Kirby laugh as she exhaled her puff, smoke clouding out of her mouth from the force of it.

"You're not going to make a documentary about me being an asshole at a party because I was pissed off at my ex, are you?"

"No, I don't think I can get the production backing for that," he told her, making her laugh again. "If you're pissed at your ex - and you're just angry so that you're not sad - you should talk to her."

"I mean," Kirby sighed. "We should probably have a real talk at some point."

"Did you listen to the album? Did you hear any of the singles?"

"No," Kirby lied, dropping his gaze.

"Listen... I'll get Jeff to send you the album. And I think you should talk to your ex." Lewd turned his gaze back out to the view.

"I don't know if I'm ready to listen to it," she admitted.

"I think you should," he pressed. "You and Alice - neither of you seem to be very apt at making sure nothing is left unsaid. Alice has the album on her side, but nothing else. You, though," he turned to her. "You still have the time."

Flicking the roach of the joint away over the ledge of the balcony, Lewd turned away once more, and Kirby stood up properly.

"Thank you."

Nodding once, wordlessly, he kept his eyes trained straight ahead. Hiking her bag up, Kirby pivoted and headed back to the doors, tugging one open and stepping back into the loud fray.

Scarlett and Fallon were gone, but Kirby spotted Jeff near the bar and quickly weaved through the crowd towards him.

"Jeff - where's Fallon?"

Startled, he leaned back from her and then raised an eyebrow.

"Whoa, Kirby - are you good?"

Gesturing to the bartender vaguely, Jeff watched her with concern before being handed a bottle of water and giving it to her.

"I don't - no." She pushed it away gently, knowing she must have looked crazed, but being too focused to care for the time being. "Where did Fallon go?"

"She left," he replied.

"With Scarlett?"

"No, Genie McCarty. She showed up and they bailed. Scarlett's still kicking around here, somewhere."

"Genie McCarty," Kirby repeated, rearing back in confusion. "The director?"

"Yeah," Jeff confirmed. "She seemed pretty stressed out and said she was taking off early. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Blushing, Kirby closed her eyes tightly for a moment before replying.

"Yes, actually. And I wanted to find her. She didn't say where they were going?"

"No, but I'd leave her alone until Monday," he cautioned. "Seriously - I don't know what happened between you two, but you're going to have to start looking for a new publicist soon if you don't give her some space."

Shooting him a small glare, Kirby snatched the water bottle from his hand and shoved it into her purse.

"Thanks, Jeff."

He turned back to the bar as Kirby all but stomped back over to the door. Alone in the elevator, she pulled out her phone and scrolled to her text thread with Fallon, ready to ask if they could meet, but stopped herself. Jeff had been right, which was admittedly annoying. 

She remembered the look of pure apathy on Fallon's face when she'd pulled her out into the hallway earlier, and felt a shiver go down her spine. She'd give her a little space, for the time being. The apology could wait until the start of the new week; knowing Fallon, she'd still be annoyed enough to want to accept it.

Leaving through the lobby and ignoring the stares from people around her, Kirby headed out to an idling taxi on the curb and climbed inside. For a moment, she almost gave out her old address - Fallon's address - but realized her error and disappointedly recited the address to her new apartment building.

Texting Allison to let her know that she'd felt sick and left, Kirby leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. As the music playing softly on the radio transitioned into a new song, Kirby heard Alice’s voice filter through the speakers and felt relaxed by it for the first time. Sitting up, she tapped on the back of the driver’s seat.

“Can you turn this song up?”


	31. Chapter 31

Fallon had preemptively called Genie out of stress.

Seeing Kirby come into the party shouldn’t have been as shocking as it was - Cristal had implied several times that the invite list was almost essentially the same as their client roster, but that also meant that Kirby had to have known she’d be there - and that Scarlett would, too. It was up in the air whether she actually would show up or not.

Taking her chance when she saw the redhead step out onto the balcony, Fallon vanished into the hallway and dialed the other woman’s number with shaking fingers.

_ “Fallon?”  _ Genie sounded surprised - if not a little smug. In her defence, Fallon would have been smug, too. She thought about the wrap party, and how pathetic she must have looked sitting in the bar alone, then closed her eyes in embarrassment. 

“Yeah.”

“It’s late. You know, ‘I’ll call you in the morning’ usually means the  _ next _ morning, not any random time a week later.”

“I’m sorry,” she sighed, already beginning to regret making the call in the first place. “I just - wanted to remind you about the Carrington party. Tonight. If you… still wanted to come. Scarlett and I were just talking about you.”

“The one that’s happening right now?” Genie clarified, and Fallon could hear the laugh in her tone. “The one that’s happening while I’m at home, in bed, in Santa Monica?” 

Disappointment prodded at her mind but she ignored it.

“Okay. Sorry if I interrupted.”

Genie shuffled around on the other end of the line, for a moment. 

“Do I need to dress up?”

“No,” Fallon replied quickly, lighting up in victory. “Whatever you want. It’s going to start winding down soon, anyway.”

“I’m not driving out there and back tonight,” the other woman complained. “I’ll do this for you, but you need to get me a room. Nothing fancy.”

Nibbling her lip as she weighed her options, Fallon shifted her bag down her arm and huffed. She’d left Scarlett alone for only five minutes - but that was five minutes too many with Kirby lurking around. 

“Fine. Just get here, please. Quickly.”

“Wow, Carrington. I’m flattered.”

Hanging up without another word, Fallon crammed her phone back into her purse and swung the door to the main room back open.

* * *

**_ONE WEEK EARLIER_ **

_ “What’re you doing here?” _

“Wow, I come to make sure you’re okay and  _ this _ is the reception that I get?” Genie sauntered over to the bar, slowing to a stop in front of Fallon and tucking one of her thumbs into her belt loop. Her face softened into real concern, though, if only for a moment. “Are you good?”

“I’m fine,” Fallon lied, giving her a quick, tight smile before clearing her throat and moving to slide down from her stool.

“No, sit.” Genie turned away and wandered behind the bar, hazarding a glance at the entrance of the room to make sure that no one was coming to reprimand them, then pulled two glasses out from beneath the counter. Setting them both down, she patted down her jacket and then pulled a flask out from the inner chest pocket, uncapping it and generously pouring a bit into each tumbler.

Wordlessly, Fallon pulled one of them closer and took a sip, wincing at the taste.

"Sorry if it's not what you're used to, princess." Genie took her own glass, leaning against the counter as she sipped from it. "Still does the job, though."

Fallon glared for a moment, then locked eyes with the other woman as she took a much bigger sip.

"You live in a two-bedroom in Santa Monica," Fallon pointed out. "The whole 'working class' aesthetic doesn't look great on you."

Chuckling, Genie rounded the bar again to take a seat next to her. 

"Bad breakup, huh?"

Stiffening, Fallon kept her gaze forward, refusing to look at the other woman.

"I've had worse."

"I don't think I believe that," she replied. "Have any of them ever been on TMZ?"

Sighing, preemptively exhausted, Fallon shook her head and rolled the tumbler between her hands.

“I suppose not.”

The director shifted, then reached out and gently placed a hand on her wrist. 

"I've had a few disastrous breakups myself. Hell, I've been broken up with on the same day we moved in together. I know 'complicated'."

The anecdote made Fallon let out a tiny amused, albeit sympathetic sound, turning her attention to the other woman before managing an almost-smile.

"I appreciate it. Even if I know you're only being nice to me because you feel bad."

"I mean..." Genie rocked her head from side to side, then chuckled at the gasp of protest that Fallon let out. Smiling more genuinely, the publicist took another sip from her tumbler and then slid it closer to the other woman hintingly.

Doing a double-take at it, Genie snorted in amusement and then let go of her arm to pull her flask out once more, unscrewing the cap.

"Don't push it, Carrington."

"It's Fallon."

"Like I said," Genie hummed. "Don't push it."

The smirk on her face didn't move as she slid Fallon's glass away and handed her the flask to sip from, instead. She'd been carefully keeping under her limits for the entire night thus far - and had driven herself to the party, after all - so she took a tiny sip before handing it back.

"It's overrated, anyway," she mused.

"What is?" Genie asked.

"Being nice."

“Oh,” the other woman sighed, waving a hand as she tucked her flask back into her chest pocket. “I don’t think it is. I think you’re just upset. Depression clouds the mind with nihilism.”

Snorting humorlessly, Fallon raised an eyebrow.

“Where the hell did you read that?”

Grinning to herself, Genie looked away, then shook her head.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“And,” Fallon continued, “My mind is fine - depressed or not. Honestly, this whole thing is making me see more clearly, anyway. I don’t think I really knew what I wanted, before all of this.”

“So?” Genie asked. “What is it you want?”

Fallon pursed her lips in thought.

“This, mostly.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be annoying,” she scoffed. “I want to sit down, with nowhere to be. And have a drink, and not need to worry about anyone else for a few hours.”

“I don’t think being single is going to help,” Genie pointed out. “Your whole job is babysitting assholes, is it not?”

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want at least a minute to myself,” Fallon replied, feeling more honest than she had in a while. She was barely thinking before she spoke, but everything she said felt true - and what was better, she didn’t regret sharing the moment the words left her mouth.

“That’s fair. When was the last time you took a day off?”

“Including this?” Fallon asked, gesturing between them.

“ _ This _ doesn’t count. Not if you’re here with Scarlett.”

“She only invited me as her plus-one,” Fallon pointed out.

“And? You haven’t been ‘on’ all night, then?” Genie gave her a knowing look, turning on her stool to face Fallon head-on.

Feeling her cheeks grow warmer, Fallon dropped her gaze, shrugging.

“Well, I’m not very ‘on’ now, am I?”

“I guess now,” Genie agreed. “Its a start.”

“It’s nice being unprofessional. Biting my tongue around you was very exhausting work.”

Her comment made the director laugh outright, surprising her by pushing at her shoulder as she rolled her eyes.

“If that was you being professional and courteous, I wouldn’t want to see your real ‘ _ claws-out’ _ mean.”

“Oh, it’s scary,” Fallon agreed, smiling openly, now. 

“I think I could probably handle it.”

Genie’s words were softer, now, and when Fallon turned to catch her gaze, she felt the quietness of the abandoned bar around them much more prominently than she had before.

“Thank you.”

Dropping her gaze, Genie slid down from her seat and cleared her throat.

“I’m going to take off - you want to come with? Nightcap?”

“I told you, I’m not really drinking,” Fallon reminded her.

“Well, that’s good, because I wasn’t  _ really _ asking you to come over for a drink.” Genie’s boldness startled her, but weighing the pros and cons in a split-second decision, Fallon gathered up her purse and pulled it down from the bartop.

“Yeah. I’ll follow you in my car.”

Pushing both of their empty glasses together, Fallon slid down from her seat and fell into step with the other woman, slipping out through the lobby and past the front desk to the doors.

* * *

**_PRESENT DAY_ **

The sight of Kirby with Ludesco made Fallon's blood run cold. Having just gotten the situation with Scarlett back under control - she was shaken, if not sympathetic - Fallon watched as her ex-girlfriend, and her dead friend's producer headed through the party towards the balcony, shutting the door behind themselves. 

"Who is that?" The blonde leaned over to ask, smiling innocently when Fallon turned to her.

"He's uh... that's Alice Alby's producer."

"Oh, yikes." Scarlett made an exaggerated face of worry before the actress on her other side caught her attention again.

Scarlett couldn't have known just how much damage that she was doing by asking Kirby about Alice - she was sweet, and while Fallon wouldn't have blamed her for standing up for herself to Kirby, she also knew deep down that it had been an accident to trigger such an extreme response from the other woman. She felt sympathetic for Kirby, too - not that she'd say it out loud.

“What did you need to call the front desk for?” Scarlett’s next question, now that her attention was back on Fallon, surprised her.

“Huh? Oh. Genie needed a room, she’s going to stay here tonight.”

“Oh, good!” Scarlett beamed at her. “I’m so glad the two of you worked everything out. I’m sure you coming to the wrap party helped.”

Thinking about her actions the night of and after the wrap party, Fallon closed her eyes for a moment, shifting in her seat. It hadn’t been her finest moment, but she couldn’t exactly pretend to be remorseful when she had an encore planned for that very night, as soon as Genie arrived.

"Do you want to go check on her?"

Fallon cleared her throat, glancing back at the balcony doors. For a moment, she pictured Kirby being tossed over the edge - why else were they out there together? Was she going to come back inside and have another public breakdown? Try to fight someone else?

"No, I - she should be fine."

There was no point flitting around her, Fallon decided. The constant babysitting only seemed to encourage the other woman to be more reckless, anyway. She'd need to learn on her own that Fallon wasn't always going to be there - especially not now.

“Oh, Genie’s here.”

Turning to follow Scarlett’s gaze, Fallon felt her heart thud against the inside of her ribs and quickly got up from her seat as the other woman made her way in.

Crossing the room to her without even saying another word to the actress, Fallon gently grabbed her by the elbow and cleared her throat.

“There’s a… situation, here.”

“What kind of situation?” Genie looked at her with one eyebrow raised in a tired performance of concern. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Fallon’s neediness and the drama that seemed to circle her was making their newfound physical relationship less and less appealing.

“Nothing major, we just - let’s just get out of here.”

“Not even going to let me get a drink, huh?” Genie smirked despite already sounding annoyed. “I almost have to think you’re hiding me.”

“No!” Fallon replied quickly, shaking her head and then hazarding a glance at the balcony doors again - Kirby was still nowhere to be seen. “I just… this party sucks, lets go to your room.”

Genie considered, for a moment, then shrugged.

“Whatever. Fine. Where is it?”

“We’ll pick up the keycard downstairs. Just… come on.” Gently pulling her arm in suggestion, Fallon led her back out the door towards the elevator.

* * *

**_ONE WEEK EARLIER_ **

“Slow  _ down _ ,” Fallon insisted, trying to keep the impatience out of her voice. “We have all night.”

Genie squirmed to sit up, but Fallon pressed a hand to her shoulder and softly pushed her back against the pillows. Staring up at her expectantly, the other woman let Fallon still her hands before surging up to kiss her one more time.

There was something familiar and comforting in the little act of intentional disobedience that brought a small, wry smile to Fallon’s lips, but she ignored the thought and slid her own open shirt off of her shoulders, pushing it onto the floor.

Not wanting to give Genie reason to grow any more impatient than she already was, Fallon started kissing a slow trail down her chest, skipping over the material of her bra before lazily mouthing her way down her stomach.

Genie’s hand suddenly burying into her hair was all the encouragement she needed, closing her eyes and pausing her movements for a moment when she sighed contently. 

Kirby usually had complaints. 

Fidgety, and squirmy at the best of times, this was usually the part where Kirby would tighten her fingers into Fallon’s hair - always careful not to pull - and hiss out a protest that she was tickling her on purpose (sometimes, she was), before melting back into relaxation when Fallon continued to move downward.

Genie, though, just rocked her hips upwards and let out what was most likely a practiced and well-honed high-pitched sigh, that would have easily had Fallon blushing on any other day if she weren’t so distracted by her own thoughts.

She did everything she could to focus - Genie’s perfume was considerably sharper than Kirby’s was. Dry, and floral, she could picture that the description of it probably had ‘rain’ or ‘breeze’ in it. It was brighter and cleaner than anything Kirby usually wore - here, there were no undertones of spice, none of the coconut that Fallon hated in any context other than when she had her face sleepily buried in the actress’ neck.

That thought alone almost brought her actions to a halt, and she ignored the build-up of stinging in her eyes by squeezing them shut and hiking the other woman’s underwear down. She was going through the motions by muscle memory alone but Genie’s moaning and incoherent enthusiasm was serving to be much more distracting than encouraging.

It wasn’t fair to Genie or to herself to try to think about Kirby, but she did anyway, shushing the woman underneath her in what she hoped was a convincingly playful manner before continuing. She managed to drift into her own thoughts after a few more quiet moments, and by the time she climbed back up to face the other woman, she was almost surprised to see that it was still the woman she’d followed home and not her ex.

* * *

**_PRESENT DAY_ **

“Did you finish?”

Genie’s voice snapped Fallon out of her overthinking and she nodded quickly.

“Yeah,” she lied easily, sitting herself up and reaching for her bra.

“You’re taking off?” The other woman pulled her shirt over her head, glancing back at Fallon as she reached around under the sheets and pulled out her underwear from earlier.

“I - yeah, I have some early meetings.”

“On a Sunday?”

“Family meeting,” she lied, shooting the other woman a stiff, apologetic smile before getting up and checking her hair in the mirror at the head of the bed. They dressed and freshened up quietly for a few moments before Genie finally spoke again.

“Don’t read into this the wrong way, but… I think it would be best if the two of us went back to the ‘strictly professional’ sort of relationship.”

Turning to look at Genie in alarm, Fallon felt her cheeks turn red with the embarrassment of rejection before she regained some composure.

"Right."

"I don't - this is nice, and all, and I'm cool with the rebound sex, but you're clearly not feeling great and I don't want to be a part of it."

"Seriously, I'm fine. It's just the working together, and the -"

"-And the moving out, and the fact that you're madly in love with her and she's not going to let any of this go, yeah yeah yeah." Genie flapped a hand dismissively, rolling her eyes. The gesture read as knowing more than rude, though, and Fallon slowly lowered herself back to the edge of the bed as she reached for her heels.

"It's a little cliche."

"I know cliches. I'm a filmmaker," Genie reminded her. Fallon felt her reach over to softly nudge her from the other side of the bed. It was an oddly comforting, friendly gesture. "You should try therapy instead of casual sex. Less exciting, more expensive, but better in the long run. Trust me, I'm speaking from experience."

Glancing over her shoulder at the other woman, Fallon sighed quietly.

"You're probably right."

"Usually."

Smiling softly, Fallon pulled her other shoe on and stood up, glancing around for her bag before grabbing it and retrieving her house keys. 

"You're going to be okay tonight?"

"Yeah," Fallon promised. "I really wasn't even drinking."

"I don't mean driving, I mean tonight. In your house by yourself."

Freezing on the spot, Fallon felt her eyes suddenly prick up and sting with tears, but she blinked them away, rolling her eyes both at the question and at herself for reacting so intensely.

"I'm fine."

"Alright, I'll see you around," Genie waved with two fingers before continuing to button up her shirt, and Fallon left her alone without another word.

Making her way down to the lobby and then towards the covered valet parking booth, Fallon considered the implications of the question Genie had posed and found herself digging for her phone as she waited for the attendant to retrieve her car for her.

Kirby’s name glowed on her screen, seeming brighter than the other contacts surrounding it, but Fallon knew that that was a trick of her mind. Still, she let herself pretend that it was a sign, despite the underlying nagging feeling of guilt at her own poor decision making. As the attendant returned with her car and handed her the keys, Fallon hit ‘call’, and then sped away from the curb, as if to leave any potential witnesses in the dust.


	32. Chapter 32

Kirby tried to enjoy the feeling of stretching out across her entire bed as she awoke the following morning. Despite how long she’d been alone in Germany, and then in what had once been she and Fallon’s house, she wasn’t used to falling asleep or waking up alone.

Grabbing her phone from the nightstand and ignoring the grogginess of her hangover, Kirby squinted at the too-bright screen and felt her stomach flip nervously as she read the missed notifications. She had expected worse, but instead of any messages berating her, or people being upset about her behaviour, only two messages appeared. The first was from Jeff, reminding her to send him her vacation schedule and let him know when she wanted to get back to work. The second was a single missed call from Fallon - far too late in the night.

Sitting up in her bed and staring disgustedly at her reflection in the mirror propped up against the opposite wall, Kirby quickly wiped some more of her smudged makeup from her eyes as if it were responsible for messing with her vision, and checked her phone screen again. Fallon’s name still remained, though.

Deciding to at least wash her face and brush her teeth before trying to deal with whatever the new day was going to throw at her, Kirby plugged her phone back into its charger and slid out of the bed to pad into the en suite. A single cardboard box sat on top of the closed toilet seat, housing her skincare essentials. Along the hallway that led to her bedroom, the walls were lined with a much more impressive collection of products - PR gifts, sponsorships, and products she'd only ever bought to try once. Fallon would have probably gotten better use from the stash, but she'd been adamant that Kirby take absolutely everything of hers out of the space by the time she left. 

Her new bathroom was a little too humble in size to house so much, but the last thing Kirby needed was petty phone calls from Fallon, angry at her and needing her to come pick up the rest of her stuff.

Her toothbrush was haphazardly tossed onto the counter space next to the sink - she'd need to go out and pick up a new container for it. She'd gotten rid of so many trinkets and household items when she and Fallon had moved in together - now she was beginning to wish she'd gotten a storage unit, instead, though that probably would have been a red flag at the time.

Feeling a little more refreshed and ready to take on the day, Kirby dug through the 'essentials' box again and pulled out her makeup bag, tossing it onto the counter before heading back into the bedroom to grab her phone. Fallon's notification was still there, despite how many chances she'd given it to disappear as if nothing had happened.

There was a possibility that Fallon had called her accidentally and hung up before she could answer. Maybe she'd meant to call someone else? Or maybe she'd wanted to talk about something work-related and hadn't realized the hour.

The night came back to Kirby in a single wave, and she squashed her embarrassment down to make room for annoyance, instead. Fallon was probably calling her to demand an apology for Scarlett - wait,  _ no _ . Fallon hadn't left with Scarlett.

She’d left with that director.

Kirby was dialing before she'd even realized, unscrewing the wand from her concealer and leaning over the counter to dab it under her eyes with shaking hands. Tapping it into place with one finger, Kirby tried not to mentally counting each ring of the phone, knowing full-well that there was no way Fallon was too busy for her. Sunday mornings when they'd lived together were for ignoring the outside world, but even then it was often hard to pull Fallon off of her phone or away from the entertainment news channels on the TV.

_ "This is Fallon Carrington, leave a message and keep it short." _

Growling in frustration before the tone could sound, Kirby hung up and dialed again, all but slapping the phone to her face as she reached for her mascara next.

_ "This is Fallon Carrington, leave a message and keep it short." _

It had only rung twice, that time - clearly she was being intentionally ignored. Gritting her teeth, Kirby cleared her throat as the tone sounded, then spoke as calmly as she could through her anger.

"First you're going to booty call me and now you're not taking my calls? At least own up to it, Fallon."

She hung up and set the phone down, turning back to her reflection to focus on the task at hand without blinding herself. She barely recognized the twisted smirk that appeared on her own face when she heard her phone buzz on the counter beside her after a moment.

Picking up quickly, Kirby turned around to hop up on the counter with her back to the mirror.

"Oh, hi."

"What did you want, Kirby?"

"I could be asking you the same thing. Why'd you call me?"

The line was quiet - the silence lasted only a moment, but it felt like it stretched across minutes. 

"I didn't really - I just -"

"You didn't really? You just?" Kirby cut her off, rolling her eyes even though the other woman couldn't see her. Not giving her a moment to defend herself, she sighed heavily, then asked. "I’ll come over there right now if you don’t tell me the truth."

Huffing into the receiver, Fallon’s tone turned sharp and defensive.

“You don’t live here anymore, Kirby. Locks are changed, unfortunately.”

“Wow, quick work,” Kirby hummed, glancing down at her nails thoughtfully before turning to dig around in the makeup case for her file. “You left with Genie last night?”

"No."

" _ Liar _ ."

The line went dead and then beeped twice to alert her that she’d been hung up on. Kirby dropped the bag to the countertop in disbelief. 

A few calming breaths were needed to get her shakiness under control, but Kirby felt an uncomfortable clarity wash over her. There was no real lucidity in her movements as she combed her fingers through her hair and fluffed it back into place before grabbing her phone and turning to get dressed. She'd warned Fallon in pretty plain English, after all.

* * *

Kirby almost didn't expect Fallon to open the door - it looked different, now that it was  _ Fallon’s  _ door and not their door, but she squashed the thought under the weight of her anger and opened her fist mid-knock to slap her palm roughly against the center of the door.

“Jesus, are you  _ kidding  _ me, right now?” Fallon’s voice started from behind the door, becoming more clear as she wrenched it open and glared at the actress.

“You can't lie to me. You know, you are so  _ pathetic  _ -”

“ _ Hey _ ,” Fallon snapped, “ _ Shut the fuck  _ -”

Kirby’s gaze dropped to the other woman’s attire - or lack thereof - silk and lace panties contrasted the laziness of the shirt she was wearing, one that Kirby recognized as her own, and she found herself pushing into the door and reaching for the other woman almost unconsciously. 

Fallon fell silent as Kirby took her by the face and kissed her roughly, grabbing her back and pulling her closer. As she kicked the open door behind her closed, Kirby realized that the outfit might have been intentional, but the idea that she was falling into one of Fallon’s traps didn't take away from her enjoyment of it. 

Fallon shoved Kirby’s jacket messily from her shoulders only breaking away to let the redhead pull her tank top up over her head before grabbing her once more and kissing her soundly. A moan escaped between kisses but Kirby lost track of who it had come from, closing her eyes and feeling like she was melting back into the other woman. It was familiar - but not the same, like staying in a hotel room that she’d already been in or visiting a childhood home that a new family had moved into. The thought of that comfortable warmth she’d grown so used to being gone filled her with abrupt, white-hot anger, and she bit down on the brunette’s lip roughly as she pulled away, tugging the t-shirt up in suggestion and glaring impatiently as Fallon followed the hint and removed it. 

Gripping her by the hips and dipping her fingers into the waistband of her panties, Kirby leaned her weight back into the closed door and pulled Fallon flush to her. Her nails left trails where they scratched into the brunette’s thighs as she worked her underwear down, moving around to grab her by the ass as she let the satiny material pool at her feet.

"Did anyone see you come in?" Fallon's words sounded like they'd come from someone else, her voice so low and quiet it was nearly unrecognizable. 

"Didn't check," Kirby breathed, sighing as the other woman pulled back from her in concern. "Stop, just -"

She kissed her again, over and over until Fallon relaxed back into her and then leaned back against the door to pull one of Fallon’s legs up to hook on the jut of her hip. Not ready for a blow to her ego, Kirby finally took a moment to slow down, trailing her fingers down from her ass along the back of her thigh to the crook of her knee, her free hand sliding up to Fallon's lower back and inching the bottom of her spine. She broke the kiss to mouth down the middle of her throat, instead, and felt a familiar thrill of smugness at the sound of a high, almost whimpering moan.  _ That one _ had  _ definitely  _ come from Fallon.

"Oh no," she mumbled, unable to keep the condescension out of her voice as she trailed her fingers back up her thigh once more, dropping her leg unceremoniously and chuckling into the side of her neck when Fallon immediately spread her stance on reflex. Not teasing her for even a second longer, she dipped her fingers up between her legs and pressed  _ almost  _ into her.

The shorter of the two women moaned appreciatively, cutting herself off as she kissed her again.

She was already wet, but Kirby didn't give herself time to wonder if she'd gotten a head start before she'd arrived or if Fallon simply needed this just as much as she did. Nudging her upright, she pulled her fingers away and popped them into her mouth, nodding to the open hall leading towards the living room.

Fallon followed her hint wordlessly, practically yanking her by the arm and making her almost trip over her shorts as she struggled to hop out of them. They hardly made it onto the nearest couch, with Fallon having to grab the backrest to anchor them in place before they could land in a heap on the hardwood floor. 

"Are you oka-"

Kirby's words were cut off by another kiss, and she reflexively reached down to steady the other woman by the ribs when she tried to arch closer to her. This was exactly what she’d needed for the last few months; it was a shock to realize just how long it had been for her, actually, but then she remembered how it hadn’t been as long for Fallon - only one night, in fact, and channelled the jealous heat in her stomach into pushing the other woman back down roughly.

“Stop squirming,” she hissed, smoothing over her sharp words by kissing her collarbone, then her chest. The other woman nodded wordlessly, eyes closed and head back. If Kirby had intended to make her feel bad, she was going about it the entirely wrong way - she should have remembered that. There was that mix of familiarity and foreignness. 

One of Fallon’s hands slid up around her shoulder, drawing her in, and Kirby let out a nervous laugh-like sound of surprise when the other woman’s fingers pressed gently against her stomach and then slid smoothly under the waistband of her own panties. Returning the favour with shaking fingers, Kirby lifted her head just enough to capture the other woman’s lips with her own, easing her mouth open with her tongue and  _ feeling  _ the needy sounds of approval coming from the other woman before she heard them.

She tipped over the edge much sooner than she’d meant to, guiltily reminding herself,  _ again,  _ that it had been a long time, and then slid a third finger into the other woman to try to catch her up. Burying her face into her neck as the last abating waves of her own orgasm introduced Fallon’s, Kirby felt the hyperawareness overtake the oncoming post-climax sobriety. The other woman’s fingertips pressed encouragingly into the spot below her shoulder and her breath came out in shallow pants that sent a pleasant tingling sensation across her scalp. She remembered the first and last time they’d had sex on this couch, when it was still in Kirby’s old rental. She could feel the warm flush of the other woman’s skin on her chest and neck, she could feel the itchy sheen of sweat beginning to form on her own skin, and she knew that they had just made a mistake.

Pulling back just enough to stare at each other, Kirby looked for a sign of confirmation on the other woman’s face. She needed to know that they were on the same page.

“Can you… can you get up? My hair -” Fallon gestured at herself, at the long section of her hair that was pinned under her own shoulder, and Kirby scrambled to sit up.

“Right, uh - yeah. Sorry.”

Sitting up slowly herself and pulling the throw blanket down from the back of the couch, Fallon pulled it to her chest and cleared her throat.

“That wasn’t why I called you.”

“Yeah,” Kirby breathed, “It was.” She shook her head in disbelief, the after-bliss concern melting into annoyance. 

“Well, maybe last night, but doesn’t -”

“- doesn’t mean that it was a good idea,” Kirby finished for her. “I know.”

They fell awkwardly quiet until Kirby clapped her hands down to her thighs and then stood from the couch.

“I’m going to shower before I go.”

She felt Fallon’s eyes follow her as she headed towards the doorway, dipping down to grab her shorts that had been kicked onto the floor in their hurry. Hazarding a glance back at the other woman, Kirby resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the sight of her, knees pulled up to her chest, buried in the blanket as she stared heavily out the wall-sized window to the backyard. Not giving her the satisfaction of playing into her theatrical wistfulness by asking if she was alright, the actress spun on her heel and headed out and towards the stairs instead.


	33. Chapter 33

Clicking through the emails in her inbox one by one, Fallon willfully ignored the sounds of excitement outside of her cracked office door. Kori wasn’t even retiring properly until the end of the year, a couple of months away, but now that she’d fully announced it with an office-wide email, all of the attention was on her, slicing the productivity of the entire floor in half. Fallon had to squint at the screen more than once, both an act of trying to fully focus on the words she was reading instead of the commotion, and also from the headache that was beginning to settle into her temples, radiating down to her jaw. Her mind was swimming; usually, having several different tasks to jump to and focus on made her feel alert and productive, but now she just felt hazy. Reopening an email that she’d read over four or five times already, Fallon stared at the message in front of her until her eyes went blurry, not properly taking in any of the words or their meanings. It didn’t matter, she’d read it twice on the way into the office and another two more times before this one, once she’d arrived.

Will Chevale’s decision to skip the Oscar circuit that year had been a tough sell for Blake, but with a combination of her own persuasive personality and Cristal’s additional agreeable influence, Fallon had convinced her dad that the proper choice was to give the actor room to explore his own personal project instead of forcing him into an awards campaign he wasn’t interested in. It would pay off, in the long run, to have him feel more deeply nurtured by them creatively than to treat him like a puppet. And Fallon had been right, that it was a good idea to lose one awards season for one actor if it meant he’d get to finally produce something that may have easily brought them even more talent in time - or _would_ have, had he not just lost out on his director and was now planning to pull the plug on the entire thing to cut his losses.

The first half of the email was formal enough - she’d almost assumed it was his assistant that had written it, given how professional it was - just letting her know, as his publicist, about his plans to pull out and asking for his options with how to go about publicly spreading the news. The second half, however, was where Fallon felt her attention being held. His request to her, not as his publicist but as his colleague, or even friend, asking for more than just her professional opinion. He could have gone above her head or asked her to put him in touch with the _Talent_ half of _Carrington PR and Talent_ , but he’d asked her, instead. _‘Unless you know anyone that might be interested. Low-budget, experimental, lots of creative freedom’._

Fallon didn’t know many directors, and the ones she did weren’t exactly her professional contacts. She knew one, though - and she unfortunately fit the wanted description perfectly. 

It wasn’t a phone call that Fallon necessarily wanted to make - at least not first thing in the morning - but she still had other emails to address, phone calls to return, and articles to approve. It was going to be a busy morning, and she knew that until she got this first, painful task out of the way, she wouldn’t be of use to anyone, especially not her own office. 

Ignoring the pressing truth of all of that, she reopened an email from Liam, instead, and re-scanned the message.

_‘Got picked up ages ago to do a puff piece for_ Petal’s Edge _, and I thought they were scrapping it until now. Thought I’d give you last looks. Production went over it first and you’re not even on my contact sheet so don’t tell anyone. ;)’_

Clicking the attachment labelled _‘PE Final Draft 1.1.2’,_ Fallon watched as it loaded up into her PDF reader and then settled in. It was extremely short - only a few dense paragraphs with notes for where promotional photos would be placed. Liam hadn’t included where the article was headed in his initial email, but it was scattered enough throughout the words themselves that Fallon realized quickly that it was an online-only piece. 

She skimmed for Kirby’s name, pursing her lips in concentration and rolling her eyes despite being alone in her office at the first remark.

_‘Kirby Anders, best known for her Oscar-nominated performance in_ Splintered Men, _also claimed that the on-location shoot in historic Hameln, Germany was a shocking change of pace and scenery. Anders, originally hailing from Australia, lives in Los Angeles with her girlfriend.’_

Staring at the screen a moment longer, Fallon mentally did the math. Kirby had to have just arrived in Germany when she’d answered any questions. Chances were, it wasn’t even Liam that she’d talked to.

It was tempting to reply with her corrections, but Fallon knew that it was an inconsequential detail, and calling attention to it was only going to open up the door for more well-meaning, if not _annoying_ check-in texts from the other man.

Pulling up a blank reply-email, Fallon typed back:

_‘Little outdated. Looks good, though.’_

Turning her attention back to the email from Will, she tapped her fingernails against the edge of her desk and chewed on her lip in thought. It didn’t _have_ to be Genie. She had plenty of friends in Talent, and every actor in their roster - almost all of whom she was on great terms with - knew at least one director they would recommend. Still, she knew deep down that Genie was the best choice, and not putting her name forward was a disservice to Will.

_'I may have someone in mind, don't pack everything up quite yet',_ she typed out, before deciding it seemed too confident, and backspaced a little to try again.

_'I may have someone in mind, I'll find out if they're free and get back to you this afternoon'._

It wasn't like her to second-guess herself, especially not over something like taking up too much space or acting too bold, but Fallon had been feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable over the last couple of weeks. That first night she'd spent with Genie had been _nice_ , but more importantly, it had shown her that she could _eventually_ be okay with someone else.

It wasn’t the smartest decision she’d ever made, professionally _or_ personally, but she’d had fun and the principle of setting herself up to be disappointed or even hurt _again_ had shown her that the world wasn’t going to end if or when it inevitably happened again.

That was, until Kirby had come over.

She felt like she had blacked out when they'd broken away from each other, and her ex-girlfriend had excused herself to shower before letting herself out without so much as a goodbye. Nothing about the rest of that day was memorable - she'd gone into the office, she knew that much, and she'd talked to Cristal there briefly about Kirby's film festival circuit schedule. She vaguely remembered ordering dinner to her office but leaving all of it in the fridge, her appetite completely gone.

Kirby had always had a hold on her, but it had never been like this. The actress was great at getting under her skin, unfortunately, and on the more positive end of the spectrum, her insistence on making Fallon like her was unfairly charming. So different from, say, Scarlett's interest in being liked, Kirby's always seemed to stem less from ego and wasn't so widespread. She was fine having people think poorly of her but she wouldn't let it go when it was someone she admired. She'd successfully sunk her claws into Fallon, and then waited until the feeling was mutual before letting go. 

If Kirby hadn't done this on purpose, that would only make the whole thing more infuriating in Fallon's mind. She was reeling - almost a half-hour had passed with her staring into the middle ground just _thinking_ about her.

It wasn't her fault that she was still in love with her. The breakup hadn't been a surprise but it was still a mess, and despite their stifled, taut professionalism when it came to work, things were far from managed between them. At least they'd agreed that sleeping together again had been a mistake - one that shouldn't be repeated - but Fallon had to wonder just how many more times they'd cave in before letting each other go.

Shaking _that_ dark thought from her head, she reached for her phone and slid it closer across the desk, staring at the buttons as she psyched herself up. She didn't even know if Genie already had a personal agent, and also knew that she shouldn't have been making a personal call from the office phone - or on office time - but convincing herself that it was for Will, and therefore for Carrington in the long run, Fallon pulled the phone from its cradle and started to dial.

"Fallon," Genie's tone was knowing, and almost playful when she picked up on the second ring.

"How'd you know?"

"Who else would be calling me from a Carrington number?"

"Hm," Fallon leaned back in her seat, smirking into the receiver. She already felt a fraction better - if Genie wasn't going to make it weird, she didn't need to either. It was at least one less thing to be worried about. "That makes sense. Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"A little," the other woman admitted. She sounded rushed - and almost a bit annoyed, but it wasn't nearly as cold as Fallon was used to hearing from her. "I have to pick up some papers from the lot. Is this important?"

"It could be," Fallon replied, glancing down at her nails and then pausing when she realized that her words might have implied a much less professional reason for her call. "It's about an upcoming project for a friend."

"I can do lunch in an hour?"

Outside of the windowed wall of the office, Cristal paced past, visibly forcing herself not to look in on Fallon. It was her third lap around the building that morning, and it was beginning to make Fallon equally dizzy and annoyed.

"Yeah, I'd like to get out of here." 

"Alright, I'll shoot you a text from the road," Genie's voice sounded distant, now, and distracted, but Fallon ignored it and let her go, turning her attention back to her computer screen just as there was a knock at her door.

"Hey," Cristal poked her head in without waiting for an answer. "Do you have a minute?"

Looking at the screen again as if a new email would magically appear and save her from whatever this was about to be, Fallon closed her eyes for a moment and then sighed.

"Yeah. I'm not busy."

Slipping around the door and closing it gently behind her, Cristal's obvious softness and preemptive concern were radiating off of her. It set Fallon's teeth on edge. She and Cristal had slowly grown past full-on sabotage when it came to each other, but they didn't get along by any means, and every time that she was this gentle with Fallon it usually was a warning that she wasn't delivering good news.

"What is it?"

Sitting stiffly in one of the chairs across the desk, the other woman laced her hands in her lap and then cleared her throat quietly.

"How have you been holding up?"

Huffing out a hybrid sound of a snort and a scoff, Fallon rolled her eyes and sat up straighter in her seat.

"What, you mean since my breakup? I'm a big girl, Cristal. I can manage to keep from crying into a box of chocolates and romance movies long enough to get through the workday. Thanks for checking in."

To her credit, the other woman didn't even flinch.

"Right, but this is different."

"Is it?" Fallon asked, cocking her head to the side impatiently. "The last time I had a really big breakup, I was seventeen. And it does feel like I've just broken up with a seventeen-year-old, given how she acts most of the time, so I'm pretty well-practiced."

One of Cristal's eyebrows ticked upward, almost imperceptibly. 

"I guess that brings me to my next point. Kirby Anders is a... formidable asset around here, and I know that a lot of that is your doing specifically, but if you... I don't know, maybe wanted to -"

"Wanted to drop her from my roster?" Fallon finished for her, a very cold smile growing across her face. "You're asking me if I want to lose an Oscar-nominated actress who is about to go franchise? Right before awards season? Did Blake put you up to this? Am I being _Punk'd_?"

"I'm not just asking for your feelings’ sake," Cristal admitted, growing visibly frustrated. "I can't have you fielding calls from her all day just because she wants to see you running yourself into the ground. Especially not when you have other clients to work with."

"Wow, even better," Fallon chuckled, then leaned over her desk against her forearms, feigning all of the sweetness she could muster. "I promise I won't let my ex-girlfriend's alleged psy-op tucker me out so much that I can't answer emails and book paparazzi spottings. I'll even sign something!"

Cristal fixed her with a glare.

"You know," she continued, unable to stop. "It's sort of bold of you to come in here under the guise of caring about how I feel at all and then trying to swipe Kirby out from under me. You can run back to Blake and tell him that just because he intentionally tries to set me up to fail, I won't. And the idea that Kirby would even consider working with anyone else here is laughable."

"Oh, I talked to Kirby, first. She said she'd do what you thought was best, even if that meant parting ways."

The words were a verbal slap in the face, and Cristal had obviously been holding onto them just in case she needed them. Fallon could admit - to herself, in secret at least - that consistently underestimating her stepmother was one of her faults that continued to come back to bite her.

"Yeah, well. Breakup aside, she knows that I know what I'm doing," Fallon grabbed a few loose papers from her desk and began to stack them, not wanting to meet the other woman's eye as she regained her composure. "I mean, it would be a little ungracious of her to let me dig her out of the public eye charging her with killing off their favorite shitty pop singer and then throw me off."

Cristal gasped so quietly that Fallon almost didn't hear it before she stood up again.

"I'm ju - I'm just letting you know that you have options." She stumbled over her words for a moment, as if Fallon's own had winded her. "Both personally and professionally - you just do what you think is best."

"Thanks," Fallon replied shortly. She tapped the stacked papers against the surface of the desk to even them - they sounded much louder than the small action called for. "I have to get to a lunch meeting."

"I'm already leaving," Cristal snapped, halfway to the door. It was petty rudeness, but Fallon was an expert at dragging it out of her.

The door closed behind her and Fallon continued to stare at her desk, avoiding looking out the window. Leaving it up to Fallon to decide whether or not they would continue working together was such a typically _Kirby_ move. It left her seeming like the sweetheart to everyone else around them, not to mention that Fallon knew the implication that she chose to keep Kirby around would seem additionally tempting for the actress.

She couldn't focus on any of that, though. She had to get ready to meet with Genie and discuss Will's project - she had always been good at connecting people, but it was an underutilized skill in her current line of work. Having a chance to stretch those specific muscles would be a nice change of pace, and getting out of the office to do it was even better.

Slipping out of the office, she glanced down the hall to make sure that the coast was clear - no Cristal, no Blake, and no Kori, either - then slid past the commotion towards the elevators. The idea of having to find parking at the restaurant that Genie had texted her shortly after their call made Fallon feel preemptively annoyed, so she ordered a car as she waited for her elevator to arrive. She managed to avoid thinking about Kirby too deeply as she headed outside, but like clockwork, the actress texted just as she stepped into the waiting car.

_[11:30AM] Kirby Anders: Call me._

Rolling her eyes to herself, Fallon buckled her seat belt and began to type out her reply.

_'I'm heading into a lunch meeting. I'll be free later.'_

Kirby responded almost immediately.

_[11:31AM] Kirby Anders: Good._

Chuckling humorlessly at the sheer audacity, she tucked her phone into her jacket pocket and settled back into her seat, trying to clear her mind and prepare herself properly for her upcoming lunch.

* * *

"No, no, you're not getting it. The gaze is still present when the male isn't. Does Christina Rossetti ring any bells? No? Jesus, man, get some culture. This is why you're on that side of the bar." Genie's words were harsh and pretentious, but even though her back was to Fallon, the laughter on the bartender's face clearly showed that there was no real malice to anything the director was saying to him. 

"Is this woman bothering you?" Fallon asked as she approached, glancing around the mostly-empty restaurant curiously. Genie whirled around in her seat, her face shifting from surprise to wry amusement.

"If anything, I'm enlightening him. See this?" She turned back to the bartender and grabbed her half-empty bottle of beer from the counter, using it to gesture at Fallon. "This woman is here to give me another job. Because I'm amazing at what I do, and I know what the fuck I'm talking about."

"Yeah, yeah." The bartender rolled his eyes with a grin and waved her away. "I'll transfer your drink to the table."

"Thank you, love." Genie shot him a wink, before turning her attention to Fallon again. "They wouldn't seat me alone. As you can see, they're really hard up for space."

She gestured at the area around them, then jutted her chin in the direction of what Fallon assumed was their table. 

Following her lead, Fallon pulled her seat out and sunk into it contently. She'd only been out of the office for a short while, but she felt like she was in the middle of a tropical vacation. Between seeing Genie again without any residual awkwardness and knowing how eager she was to hear about the project, relief flooded all of Fallon's senses for the first time in weeks.

“So? Tell me about the project.”

“Right,” Fallon breathed, shrugging off her jacket and then leaning over to roll right into her explanation. 

She only took a real break when Genie waved their server over and ordered them a plate of fries and a refill on their drinks. Shifting gears, the director surveyed her slowly and then finally commented:

“You look good. Better.”

Raising both eyebrows, Fallon glanced down at herself and then narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.

“As opposed to?”

“Miserable. Stressed.”

“Ah. Well, that just goes to show how good I am with public image, clearly, because I am in fact both of those.”

She wasn’t sure why she was even telling the other woman - but just like their first night together, it was like the she just had a pull on her for the truth. It took her a moment to realize exactly why - she really didn’t care what Genie thought of her, and that made it much easier to speak her mind, even if it meant the other woman thinking poorly of her. Outside of this specific personal favour, Genie really had nothing to offer her, and vice versa - Fallon realized she had almost no one else in her life like that.

“Well. You’ll get over it.” Genie’s words were rough around the edges, but undeniably comforting on their own, simply because they were true. “So, Will’s obviously starring, I’ve only heard good things. Who’s producing? You?”

“Me?” Fallon confirmed, raising one hand to her chest as if the director would have been talking to or about anyone else. 

“Yeah,” she replied easily.

“I don’t - I -”

“Y’know,” Genie continued as if Fallon hadn’t said anything. “I was just saying to someone that that’s what you should really be doing. Probably would earn you a few more ‘good karma’ points too than your current uh… thing.”

Snorting, Fallon rolled her eyes and swirled the ice in her glass around.

“I’m not a producer.”

“Why not?”

“Because I -” Fallon trailed off, stumped momentarily. “Because I already have a job? That I’m really good at, by the way. And I like what I do, thank you very much.”

“I mean, sure, but why not just produce _this_?”

“Because I have awards season coming up.”

“Oh,” Genie sat back. “I didn’t realize you and Kirby were still…”

“Working together?” Fallon finished for her, forcing a quick, stiff smile. “Yeah. Hence the ‘miserable and stressed’ thing.”

"You'd rather do that then maybe try this?"

"It's not that," Fallon replied. "I'll just be busy. It's intensive."

"I think you're scared that you're going to see how good you are at it," Genie accused.

"Why would I be afraid of that?"

She shrugged.

"Any number of reasons. Maybe you'll have to stick with it. Maybe it'll suck to try to do anything else because you'll be so in love with it. Maybe you'll realize how long ago you should have started and start spiralling over lost time."

The woman's words were overly-dramatic and almost playful, but their implication still made Fallon's mouth turn dry. Sipping feverishly from her drink, she dropped her gaze to the table in front of her, focusing on the food as she tried to jump back to the present.

"I want to float your name to Will for this," Genie said. "Please consider it."

Fallon caught her gaze again and sighed.

"I will. Think about it."

* * *

Despite the humidity and warmth outside, Fallon felt like the air was thicker once she stepped into the office. She’d barely made it into the elevator and hit her floor's button when her phone started to buzz in her jacket pocket and she scrambled to retrieve it. She hadn't picked it up in the last half hour at least, a rarity for her. Kirby's name flashed on her screen and she winced internally, but as if to answer her prayers, the call suddenly dropped, all of the service bars in the corner of the screen vanishing as the elevator began to move. Happy that she'd avoided the confrontation for at least another couple of minutes, giving her a chance to settle into her office, Fallon tucked the phone away again and took a couple of relaxing deep breaths.

Closing her door softly behind herself and tugging the blinds closed across the majority of the windowed wall, Fallon groaned as her phone started to buzz again, picking it up this time without distraction.

_“Did you hang up on me? What the hell?”_

“No, I was in the elevator,” Fallon rounded her desk to settle in at her seat, toeing her shoes off beneath the desk and wishing she’d sprung for the massaging soak tub that her phone kept trying to advertise to her. The tension in her legs and feet was only matched by that in her shoulders and neck - she’d need to remember to book an actual massage the next time she had a day off. “What did you need?”

“You were supposed to call me?” Kirby’s outrage sounded almost comical, but Fallon knew it was just a manifestation of all of her underlying frustration - and probably nervousness, too, about the upcoming season.

“I told you, I was in a lunch meeting. I just got back in.”

“Who were you meeting with?”

“That’s definitely not your business,” Fallon replied sternly, sitting upright. “Are you just checking in? Or -”

“I read the article.”

“What article?” Fallon pulled her phone away from her face to stare at it as if it had the answers.

“The one Liam wrote? Did you okay that?”

“I - yes? What’s wrong with it?”

It was quiet for a moment, save for the sound of wind in the background. A horn honked somewhere in the distant background of the call before Kirby huffed angrily.

“Well, there’s nothing _wrong_ with it - I didn’t read the whole thing yet, anyway. But _why_ didn’t you ask me?” 

“I think you need to calm down and let me do my goddamn job,” Fallon snapped. “This phone call is a waste of time - mine, especially.”

Kirby laughed, the sound muffled as she leaned away from the phone. It sounded cold, and mean, and completely unfamiliar, sending an uncomfortable chill up the publicist’s spine. 

“Are you in the office right now?” she asked a moment later.

“... Why?”

“I’m taking that as a yes.” She hung up without another word, and Fallon felt briefly frozen in fear. She almost leapt up from her desk to lock the door and close the windows, as if worried that the actress was going to materialize and take her out. It had sounded like she was in the car, but there was no telling how close or far she was from the office.

Deciding that the best thing to do would be to not be where Kirby was expecting her, she stepped back into her shoes in preparation to head to one of the conference rooms to work, instead, before being hit by a wave of embarrassment and irritation at the same time. This was her office - in her place of work. Kirby would know better than to cause a scene and she was _not_ going to be intimidated out of her own little professional oasis.

By some work of the devil, combined with Fallon’s obvious bad luck spurt, the actress arrived no more than eight minutes later, alerting Fallon - and everyone else on the floor - to her presence by banging on the door to her office.

“Jesus,” Fallon hissed, swinging the door open angrily. “What are you, a fucking vampire? Just knock and walk in, do you want a written invitation?”

Kirby brushed roughly past her, kicking the door out of Fallon’s hand and shut behind herself before fixing her with a glare.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” she said, though the look on her face said otherwise. Fallon shrunk into herself a little even as she willed herself not to. “Stop making me come back here just because _you_ can’t act like an adult.”

“Excuse me? _I_ can’t act like an adult? You _drove_ here, over an article you don’t even care enough about to read through, to what? Throw a tantrum? Threaten me? What is this?” She gestured between them, shutting up when the actress leaned closer.

“I’m threatening you?” Kirby repeated. “You feel _threatened_ , right now?”

Narrowing her eyes and standing her ground, Fallon didn’t shrink away this time when Kirby leaned in even closer. She could feel the corner of her desk against her back but ignored the uncomfortable prodding, dropping her gaze to the other woman’s lips as her features softened a little.

“Hey, Kirby, I think it’s time that you leave.”

Fallon hadn’t even heard the door open - clearly, Kirby hadn’t either, judging by the startled half-yelp that escaped her as she jumped and whirled around. Cristal leaned in the doorway stiffly, head cocked to the side as she surveyed them.

“We were just -” Kirby started to explain, but Cristal cut her off.

“I’m not going to call security, but you need to go. This,” she gestured between the two women at the desk, “isn’t appropriate.”

“We were _talking,_ ” Fallon snapped.

Cristal wordlessly stepped aside from the doorway, gesturing out of it, and Kirby left silently. Following her with her eyes as she headed down the hall through the windowed wall, Fallon waited until she had turned the corner out of sight before looking at her stepmother again.

“I don’t need you coming in here and scolding my clients on my behalf - or me, for that matter.”

“Grow up, Fallon.”

She’d been expecting something a little more discursive, but those three dismissive words as the other woman turned to leave stung much worse than Fallon had expected. Following her path to the door, she closed it behind Cristal, using all of her willpower not to slam it, and closed the blinds the rest of the way before picking up the throw pillow from the nearest couch and burying her face in it to scream.


	34. Chapter 34

Pretending not to notice the small group of tourists clustered around a nearby patio table, Kirby Anders raised her cigarette to her lips and took a long drag, staring out at the street in front of her. She’d never been to the restaurant that she was meeting Fallon - and her contact from  _ Vanity Fair  _ at, and not that she’d admit it out loud, but waiting outside for Fallon seemed less embarrassing than sitting alone in an unfamiliar place. 

Beside her, she heard hushed voices, still travelling to her despite their obvious intent to be discreet.

_ “Are you sure it’s her?” _

_ “She’s taller than I thought.” _

_ “D’you think that hair suits her? I thought those pictures of the brown looked so pretty.” _

She kept an eye out for Fallon’s car and was surprised when she pulled up in a sleek black car service vehicle, instead. She watched from a few feet away as the brunette struggled out of the low back seat and huffily straightened her skirt as she stood upright.

Kirby had driven herself, for once. She’d been spending more time behind the wheel of her car in the last week or so - the Los Angeles traffic was frustrating, but the independence was nice. As silly as it was, it felt like an identity for herself, separate from her relationship; Fallon had usually driven them everywhere when they were together.

“Where’s your car?”

Fallon headed up the pavement to her, sighing before she answered.

“I was… running late. I didn’t want to find parking. Are you ready? Have you been inside?”

“No, just waiting on you.” Taking another drag from the cigarette and then tossing it into the street, Kirby gave the other woman a once over.

“You look exhausted.”

She wasn’t sure why she was torturing her. he really had no issue reacting - sometimes overreacting - when Fallon got under her skin or went over her head, but this time she really hadn’t done anything wrong.

“They fixed your hair,” Fallon replied, nodding to her instead of responding to the obvious jab for attention. It had only been a few days earlier that Kirby had finally been able to get rid of the brunette locks in exchange for her natural red, but she was already becoming increasingly aware of how much more recognizable the color made her.

"I'm not sure if 'fixed' is the right word," Kirby replied, digging in her jacket pocket for a moment and pulling out a package of gum, offering it to the other woman before taking a piece. "They're really pulling out the big guns right out the gate, this time, huh?"

"What, with the piece?" Fallon frowned, glancing at the restaurant door for a moment, then turning back to Kirby. "That's more so on the actual studio - they want all hands on deck with you guys."

Making a thoughtful noise in the back of her throat - one that Kirby knew would leave the other woman annoyed, thinking that the actress was considering the possibility that the movie studio did more for her than Fallon did - she hiked her purse up onto her shoulder and turned to head inside, letting Fallon follow behind.

Idly taking in her surroundings as Fallon confirmed their table with the young woman at the hostess stand - and discovered that their contact was already there - Kirby pretended once more not to notice the gazes from any of the other patrons or staff that were serving them. Her attitude over the attention varied based on the day, and right then, she simply wasn’t in the mood.

“This way,” Fallon gently steered her by the crook of the elbow, but said nothing when she childishly yanked away from her in a small act of defiance. 

"Heather? Hi, I'm Fallon." Stepping in front of Kirby so quickly that she nearly tripped her, she held her hand out for the other woman at the table to shake as she stood from her seat. "This is Kirby Anders - were you waiting long?"

"No, no," The other woman waved dismissively. "I'm always early - gave me time to go over my notes." She shook Kirby's hand next, then glanced down at their table - a cozy half-booth near the window.

"Would you rather sit here?" Heather's question was for Kirby, and she gestured at the seat she'd just vacated, but Fallon answered.

"Hm? No, she's fine. Please."

Pulling the chair across out for the actress, Fallon cleared her throat and waited for her to sit before taking her own seat, albeit visibly stiffly.

She  _ was  _ looking exhausted - Kirby hadn’t been lying when she’d first seen her, not that it was necessarily polite to point it out - but it was almost hard to look at her without feeling too bad for her. Her hair, still meticulously styled and cared for, was a little dull, with wisps falling almost unnoticeably around the nape of her neck and temples. It wasn’t anything that anyone else would have docked her points for, but Kirby noticed. Her reflex was to reach out and brush them away for her, but she simply tightened her hand into a fist in her lap and looked away.

"So," Heather slid her water glass aside and picked up her coil-bound notebook. "How have you been?"

"Good," Kirby breathed, turning her attention to the woman across from her fully. It was hard to both ignore Fallon and focus, but she willed herself to. "I'm going to order a water, first... I've been back for so long and I still feel like I haven't acclimated to the LA heat again yet."

It was a push in the direction of discussion, wanting to dive quickly into Petal's Edge and the locational shoot. Fallon had taught her that - but the brunette next to her didn't seem to be paying too close of attention to her, tapping away at her phone each time she looked down, only looking up long enough to seem politely engaged enough to not come across as rude. 

“Oh, of course. How was Germany, how did you like it?”

“Very different,” Kirby replied, forcing her gaze back to the reporter, and then sitting up straighter as their server arrived.

“She’s going to have a water. Me too.” Fallon spoke without looking up from her phone in her lap, gesturing at Kirby. “Have you eaten? Do you want to eat?” She glanced up at Heather, first, and then Kirby, with a little more seriousness to her look.

“I, uh -”

“Maybe bread, for the table,” Fallon continued. “Or fries. Whatever. You’re having a drink?” She looked at Kirby, again, who couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“Skip the bread,” she nixed, shaking her head and waiting until the server had turned to get their waters before trying to dive back in.

"What was that like? That's a bit of a haul, and you had mentioned before that you don't really get to do a lot of travelling."

Heather barely looked up, scrawling away at the page in front of her - though even when she did look up to make eye contact, her pen hand never stopped moving.

"The distance was definitely weird, but like I said, it was good. Cool people, cool food. Plus, we were working so hard for the majority of the time that I didn't have a lot of time to be homesick."

Fallon shifted uncomfortably in the seat beside her.

"So what've you been doing now that you're back?"

"First thing I needed to do was get some real sun," Kirby laughed, then wondered if it sounded as ingenuine to the reporter as it did in her own head. "But other than that, really just trying to relax. I did move, which is  _ so _ stressful, you know, so everything was sort of... go go go for a moment, there, but now I'm just enjoying time off."

The tacit 'between rigorous press-work' hung between the three of them, not needing to be said. 

"That's great," Heather replied, reaching for her water once more. "Have you already scheduled anything else?"

Kirby's eyes flicked to Fallon again, just for a moment, but her gaze was down, at her phone screen tucked just beneath the edge of the table.

"Not yet. I'm keeping my options open."

The implied 'in case I get better offers after awards season' hung between the three of them, again, not needing to be said. They all knew the drill - and they all knew why they were there.

"On second thought," Kirby spoke after a moment, finally drawing Fallon's gaze back up to herself. "I'd actually love a glass of wine. Where did that waiter go?"

* * *

"Thank you again, Heather." Fallon stood up first, holding one hand out to shake the reporter's hand before she straightened the skirt of her dress and reached for her purse. "I'll be in touch. You have my email."

"Of course." Heather dipped around Fallon's form to wave to Kirby. "It was nice meeting you, again."

Lifting the last of her wine that she'd been nursing in a sort of air-cheers, the actress watched as the woman made her way out of the restaurant, then turned to Fallon in confusion.

"Wait - are you ordering a car?"

"Yeah," the brunette replied stiffly, hiking her jacket and bag up onto one arm and transferring her phone to her other hand. "I'll call you when they email me the draft."

"No - I mean, I can drive you. Here." Standing up, Kirby slammed the last from her glass and set it down, reaching for her own bag.

"No," Fallon sighed. "I don't think so."

"Fallon," she chuckled in disbelief, raising an eyebrow. "I - look, I'm sorry about what happened in the office, the other day. But you seriously look exhausted, I don't want you passing out in an Uber and getting kidnapped."

“I’m not going to pass out in a car, trust me.” Fallon pulled her phone up to squint at the screen, but Kirby reached out and covered it, lowering it slowly.

“It’ll make me feel better.”

“That’s not a selling feature that I’m concerned with,” Fallon replied shortly. 

“Fallon.”

The brunette finally looked up once more, locking eyes with her. Kirby could see the way that not only the last few months, but the conversation they were having alone was aging her. The defeat slid across her features after another moment - Kirby must’ve been looking particularly pathetic or concerned for Fallon to change her mind, but she wasn’t complaining.

“Fine.”

Resisting the urge to smile at having gotten her way, Kirby turned to head outside, leaving room for Fallon to follow. 

“I’m just parked around the corner,” she told her, glancing back over her shoulder for a moment. The brunette said nothing in response and followed quietly, the click of her heels less pronounced as if she were already beginning to drag her feet. “Do you need to go anywhere else?”

“Just home,” Fallon replied, her tone firm.

"Okay, okay." Holding both hands up in surrender, Kirby turned her attention back to where she was going as they stepped outside, pulling her sunglasses down from her hair and onto her face.

"Those are ridiculous," Fallon informed her, finally speaking as she fell into step beside her.

Kirby glanced at her with a double-take, then snorted.

"These?" She gestured at the glasses. "Yeah, well. I'm not exactly in the mood to be bothered right now. Besides, I don't need any more public confusion about this." She gestured between the two of them.

"Any  _ more _ ?" Fallon repeated. "So you  _ did  _ actually finish the article, then?"

"I've been busy," Kirby replied, feeling suddenly a little defensive. They were mercifully unnoticed as they arrived at her car, and she grabbed the passenger side door and held it open for her reflexively when they approached.

Glancing between the door and her ex-girlfriend, Fallon pursed her lips for a moment before choosing to say nothing, much to Kirby's relief, and climbing into the car.

Rolling her eyes at herself, Kirby rounded the car and climbed into the driver’s seat, shutting the door and effectively vacuuming them into noise-cancelled, heavy silence.

Fallon stared at her phone in her lap despite not using it, clearly just trying to avoid looking at the other woman as she did up her seatbelt. After another moment of uncomfortable silence - save for the sound of the turn signal clicking softly as Kirby watched the traffic for her chance to merge out onto the street - she heard Fallon reach over and turn on the radio before clearing her throat. 

“Do you want to talk?” Kirby asked as she saw her opening, hitting the gas and unceremoniously lurching them forward before slowing down and weaving into the road. A few individual raindrops scattered across the windshield, and she leaned forward to peer up and out of it at the sky above.

“About what?”

Chuckling humorlessly, Kirby shook her head.

“This whole ‘unbothered’ act really just makes it sound more like you’ve had a lobotomy.”

“Nice. That’s nice.”

Turning to her for just a moment, Kirby surveyed the other woman’s face one more time, then sighed.

“I  _ am  _ sorry for what happened at the office. It was… I was just frustrated, and I took it out on you, and I shouldn’t have.”

“You’re right,” Fallon replied, her voice sounding a little clearer, now. “You shouldn’t have.”

Biting the inside of her cheek to avoid apologizing again, the redhead steeled her gaze on the road and waited for Fallon to say something else, but after a beat, it became apparent that she wasn’t going to. The rain came on a little quicker, despite the sun still shining brightly through the clouds. Kirby flicked the windshield wipers on and tried not to let the metronomic sound of them lull her into a state of unfocus. 

With a pang of sadness, Kirby realized that her impulse at the first intersection they reached was to turn left - towards her own single apartment. When she’d first moved in, she’d been worried she’d never lose the instinct to go home to the house that she and Fallon had bought together, not trusting herself not to order an Uber there instead of home after a night out and arriving drunk on her doorstep, fumbling with keys for locks that had already been changed.

Several minutes passed before Kirby tried to speak again, turning to the brunette as the traffic thinned.

“Y’know, I just - oh.”

Leaned against the window with her chin tilted downward, face turned towards the inside of the car, Fallon had sunken down into her jacket and created a makeshift pillow by propping her elbow against the sideboard ledge of the door. There was a small hint of a frown on her face, likely from the shifting of the car as they rounded corners and stopped and started in traffic, but other than that small detail she was completely, peacefully asleep.

Taking extra care to drive slowly and smoothly for the remaining ten minutes of the ride, Kirby did her best not to agonize over the fact that she’d seen Fallon sleep during the day perhaps a total of five times in the entire time she’d known her - and it was always because of overwhelming stress. 

Fallon was still asleep when they arrived at the house and didn’t stir until Kirby shut off the engine and reached over, undoing her seatbelt for her and shaking her knee gently.

“Hey. We’re here.”

Lifting her head slowly, the brunette squinted grumpily at her surroundings before sitting up straighter and groaning as she rolled her shoulders.

“I can’t believe I fell asleep.”

Her words slurred together from residual sleepiness, and Kirby had to clench her jaw to resist the urge to touch her again - her arm, her knee, something comforting and soft out of pure instinct.

“C’mon, I’ll help you in.”

“‘M tired, not drunk,” Fallon huffed, wrestling her tangled seatbelt away before pushing the door open. Kirby followed her regardless; nurturing auto-pilot had taken over, and if Fallon was stressed enough to  _ nap -  _ in a  _ car,  _ no less - she was going to at least make sure she had a glass of water or made it all the way to the bed instead of one of the less comfortable couches.

Fallon didn’t protest as Kirby approached the door with her, both of them ignoring the rain that was beginning to pick up further, pulling out her keys and letting them both in. The house was cool - cooler than it ever was when Kirby still lived there - and it made it feel like a museum. Fallon immediately turned towards the kitchen and liquor storage, but Kirby steered her by the shoulders to the stairs, instead.

“Go lie down. I’m going to get you some water… then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Fallon looked like she was going to protest further, but then did as she was told, trudging up the stairs and dropping her purse and jacket on the floor as she went.

Making sure she was at least halfway upstairs before heading to the kitchen, Kirby shivered from the cold and ignored the additional goosebumps that came from feeling out of place in the house.

She retrieved a water bottle from the refrigerator door and paused to take in the sight of its inventory - relatively well-stocked like it had been when they’d lived together, but the signs of grocery shopping and actual enjoyment were gone. Where there’d usually been tons of varying half-finished packages as evidence of their fluctuating cravings or ideas, there were now neat stacks of identical pre-made food. Several low-cal southwest salads made up a row against the back of the fridge, and the  _ Instacart  _ stickers on every single container made Kirby feel a sad, nostalgic pang in her chest. 

They were usually busy - takeout was often their go-to during their more hectic work periods - but actually  _ going _ to the store together was something Kirby had insisted on when they’d first started dating and spending more time at one another’s places. Fallon didn’t like the occasional unwanted attention that they got, but wandering up and down the aisles and lightheartedly arguing over how much produce or which brands to buy always made her feel like they were doing things  _ right _ . There was nothing traditional about their lives - separately or as a couple - but the one task of picking out fresh snacks for a movie night in, or shoving a full cart across a bumpy parking lot to the car gave Kirby a sense of normalcy.

Fallon clearly didn’t have time for any of that on her own. Maybe she was relieved that she didn’t need to humor the actress by doing it anymore, or maybe she didn’t leave the house much except to go to work, these days. Maybe she associated it with Kirby as much as she did with Fallon, and doing it alone didn’t feel right.

Returning to the stairs and staring up them - they looked steeper and more daunting than usual - Kirby clutched the water bottle tighter in her hand and reached for the banister. She’d had a nightmare about these stairs - only once, after moving out. The rest of the dream had taken place elsewhere, unrelated to the home or to Fallon, but it had been chilling to climb these specific stairs alone, stretching on into infinity no matter how many steps she took or how tired her legs grew. These stairs abruptly ended on the second-floor landing after exactly twenty.

Her relief was quickly quashed by the realization that she had to now take on a much more realistic terrifying experience - confronting Fallon again, and seeing her in their -  _ being  _ in their old bedroom.

“I… got your water.”

Across the room, Fallon stood by the massive bay window, peering down into the backyard. She’d changed, her suit laid out carefully on the end of the bed, having been replaced by a silk worn-down robe cinched tightly around her waist.

She glanced back over her shoulder, her hair tumbling messily onto her back. It was kinked where her pins had been holding it up earlier, and looked even more fragile now than it had earlier. 

“Thanks,” she replied, turning properly and crossing the room to hold a hand out. Kirby set the bottle carefully into her palm like she was worried the weight of it would drag her down to the floor. Her fingers closed around it and Kirby realized for the first time that her nail polish was beginning to chip.

“Right. You should rest… I know we have that lunch with Jeff tomorrow, but let me know tonight if you’re still tired, we can definitely reschedule. I don’t really have an answer for him about when I want to dive back in, anyway. It isn’t urgent.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” Kirby gestured over her shoulder, turning to look back at the bedroom door. “I still have some stuff to email Jeff, and the traffic will probably be getting a little crazy now, with the rain, and -”

Still facing the door, she felt Fallon’s hand slide up around the back of her neck and as she turned to face her again, her lips descended onto hers, kissing her so smoothly it was as if they were on one singular wavelength again, even for a moment.

“Fallon,” she breathed, pulling away just as the other woman’s arms slid around her waist. The bottle of water was so cold against the exposed skin on her back that it felt like it was burning her, forcing her to press closer to Fallon despite verbally trying to break free. 

Her grip tightened, but less out of defiant force, and more similar to the actions of someone slipping and scrambling for purchase to hold themselves up. 

“This is a bad idea,” Kirby breathed.

“Please don’t leave,” Fallon said in the same moment.

"We weren't going to do this anymore," Kirby felt her hands move on their own accord, coming to rest gently on the other woman's hips. She felt sharper, and stiff; warmth only blooming up under her skin where her fingers were touching, like she was melting into her. 

“I didn’t sign anything about that,” Fallon replied, her eyes locked on the redhead’s lips.

She couldn't help but feel a flicker of a smile pull at her mouth despite the seriousness of the situation. The whole reason they were still in this mess was because she was still Fallon, and she was still Kirby. They were still  _ them _ , even when they were pushing each other away; maybe more so.

"I..." Kirby started, letting herself trail off as she watched the other woman's face. Any sign that she didn't want this; that she was waiting for Kirby to be the rock or the voice of reason this once - none of that was present, though. It was a relief - it would have been foolish of her to expect Kirby to say 'no' to her, especially now, when they were both so raw. All of the outer buffer had been scrubbed away and left only uncovered magnets, drawing them back in in a way that they were both too exhausted to resist anymore.

She closed the space between them to kiss her again, forcing herself to meet the other woman's roughness with gentleness. Fallon's hands slid up from her waist, dropping the bottle to the floor to dig her cold fingers into Kirby's shoulders. She barely gave her room to slide her tongue into her mouth, pressing to her so tightly that Kirby could barely move - but she let her, her thumbs rolling small circles into the small of her back to try to ease her into relaxation. She'd always admired that Fallon was as tough as nails, but Kirby loved her too much not to handle her like porcelain.

The brunette practically gasped when she pulled away momentarily, breathlessly trying to untie the knot in the cord around her waist, but Kirby quickly and carefully caught her hands, raising one to press her lips to the back of it before taking her by the hips again and backing her slowly toward the bed.

The back of her legs collided with the side of the mattress and she laid back quickly, wriggling up the rest of the way onto the bed almost frantically, like she was worried that if too much time passed, Kirby would have a change of heart, or snap out of their shared trance and realize it was time to leave. She did neither of these things, though, and climbed up onto her knees, straddling Fallon's hips before setting to work on the knot.

It was quiet, saved for their offbeat laboured breathing as Kirby finally freed the other woman from the robe and shoved it open, splaying her hands across her ribs and stomach as she dipped down to kiss her again. She was nude under it, letting Kirby know that  _ this  _ had been the plan - or at least it had in Fallon’s vision of the afternoon - but she couldn’t be upset, or feel had. She’d wanted it just as badly, even if she hadn’t dressed the part.

_ ‘I love you’,  _ she thought, frantically keeping the words from reaching her throat by kissing Fallon again, and then again and again until the words had faded from her mind and were replaced with an incoherent, aggressive feeling of affection.

They broke away from one another when Fallon’s fingers found the zipper of her shirt - an annoying, overly complicated cropped piece that had been a ‘gift’ from a designer Kirby had already forgotten the name of - and the redhead brushed her hands away softly to do it herself. Once she’d wrestled it off and tossed it onto the floor, Fallon’s hands immediately found her breasts, gentle despite her earlier aggression, before sliding down her sides and holding her still by the hips. Kirby watched her in silence for a moment. It wasn’t that she was usually rough, but she hadn’t seen this sort of quiet, careful fascination on the other woman’s face since the first time they’d made love - not slept together, but properly made love - years prior. 

“Fallon -”

“Come here.” The brunette’s words came out as a demand, but her tone was light. It was familiar, and set off butterflies in Kirby’s chest and stomach that almost brought a real, genuine smile to her face before she leaned down to kiss her again.

Fallon mirrored her every move, anticipating where she was going to touch next or where her lips would travel to in perfect order. Just like the last time, on the couch, it was as if they'd picked up where they had left off and could do the entire dance by muscle memory. Nobody else knew her this intimately - it almost gave Kirby a sort of sense of pride. She was good at this; she was good at knowing Fallon. More impressive; more honed of a skill or accomplishment than any award or nomination, she could bring the other woman right up to the edge and then back down without batting an eye.

Twisting out of her skirt and kicking it to the floor, she slid back up between the brunette's legs and laid chest to chest with her for a moment. The urgency was gone completely, and she knew from looking into the other woman's eyes that this wasn't the same mistake they'd made the last time. It lacked the franticness; the speed that they'd tried to undress each other and finish before their inhibition could get in the way. When she brushed her thumb over Fallon's cheek and watched her eyes flutter closed for a moment before she pressed herself closer to her hand, she felt like she had all of the time in the world.

That pesky _ 'I love you'  _ bubbled back up into her throat, but she ignored it in favour of pressing her lips to her forehead before slowly beginning to slide down to work down her neck.

"I missed you."

Fairly sure she'd imagined it, Kirby glanced up.

"What?"

"I missed this."

Lifting her head a little further, Kirby watched as Fallon's eyes darted from the ceiling behind her head to her face, all of her features looking much softer than they had only a few minutes earlier. She brushed her knuckles down her arm slowly, trailing lightly from her elbow to her wrist, and watched the brunette's eyes darken.

" _ Show me _ ."

She felt Fallon's ankle slip around the back of her calf and the heel of her foot dig in there, pulling her closer, and up, and couldn't help but chuckle before returning her lips to her neck.

Not content to just let the other woman ride her leg until she brought herself to orgasm, Kirby walked two fingers delicately across her stomach between them and then slid her hand between Fallon and her own thigh. Pressing a reassuring kiss below her ear as she slid one, then two fingers inside of her, she paused to properly savour the sigh the woman underneath her let out; defeated, happily.

It was overwhelming how much she missed all of her. With no intention to rush, she couldn't cover all of the ground she needed in time. She could have spent another lifetime taking in every inch of her, but Fallon would probably fail to see the charm in being held on edge for that long.

Trying not to move too frantically or quickly, Kirby slid further and further down, lips travelling across her breasts and then stomach, she slowly pulled her hand free and replaced her fingers with her tongue, barely giving the other woman time to register the change while she pulled her thighs up onto her shoulders.

Her breathy encouragement almost immediately turned to a whimper - almost frustrated; like no matter what, it wasn’t enough. One of her hands slid down to reach for her head, trying to bring her closer, and as the other hand approached her to join it, Kirby reached out and captured it in her own, lacing their fingers together with all the softness in the world before pinning it down to the mattress at her hip.

It was quiet, then - save for Fallon - but for the first time since they'd landed in the bed, Kirby felt blissfully void of any internal monologue. There were no more voices demanding a vocal  _ 'I love you' _ or nagging reminders that this was her  _ ex _ -girlfriend. She was perfectly at home, tucked between her legs and holding her hand.

She'd thought Fallon was, too, until the frustrated mewling turned into an outright growl, and her grip on her hand tightened. Before she could properly register, Kirby was being simultaneously pushed and pulled - her head being nudged away from her and her arm being pulled upward.

"What?" Her own voice sounded more breathless than she'd been expecting, almost slurred, like she'd been getting drunk on nothing but the other woman. "What's the matter?"

"I can't - I don't want that."

“Oh,” Kirby slid upward even further, frowning and then moving to sit up before Fallon stopped her again. “I’m sorry, I -”

“I want to see you.”

"I'm right here," she promised, trying to smile reassuringly before noticing exactly how far away the other woman looked. "What's wrong?"

"I just..." Fallon stared at her for a beat, before looking off to the side and shaking her head. "I want to be here. I don't want to be distracted by anything."

"Okay," she replied slowly, stretching out beside her carefully, before reaching across her stomach and taking one side of the splayed open robe between her fingers. "I'm right here." 

She moved to drape the material back across her, and give her at least some kind of coverage, but Fallon abruptly rolled onto her side to face her, and it fell away from her again.

"Oh, I didn't mean... I don't want to  _ not  _ have sex."

Laughing quietly before she could help herself, Kirby surged forward through the small space separating them and kissed her. She could feel the other woman smiling into it, and felt giddy fireworks going off in her mind at how familiar it was.

There was defiance - playful, at least - and Kirby pulled back from the kiss with a gasp when her hands trying to slip around Fallon's waist were met with her grabbing them and wrestling them away. Narrowing her eyes in concentration, she tried again, feeling her heart swell in her chest when the brunette let out a single sharp exhale - not a laugh, but closer to one than she'd heard in months - she wrestled her away again. Fallon followed up by nudging her onto her back before hooking one leg over her hips and straddling her down.

Conceding despite having the strength to overpower her in return, Kirby loosened her grip on her hands and stared up at her to watch her catch her breath.

"Are you pleased with yourse-"

Fallon didn't let her finish, leaning down and kissing her hungrily.

Rolling her hips experimentally, Kirby grinned when the other woman broke the kiss to gasp. The only thing separating them now was her own underwear, which was increasingly becoming a nuisance. 

Grabbing Fallon's hips to still her when she tried to rock forward, she waited for the brunette to catch her eye again and then cleared her throat, nodding toward the head of the bed. Awkwardly shifting their combined form towards the pillows, Kirby propped her head up and then reached for her hips again to squeeze them encouragingly.

"Carry on. Please."

"Oh yeah?" Fallon cocked her head to the side, leaning in closer until they were almost chest to chest. 

"Mhm."

Anticipating another kiss, Kirby bit her lip to hold back a chuckle of disbelief when the other woman pulled away completely and off of her to start working down the waistband of her panties for her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she distractedly spotted the water bottle on the floor, abandoned from earlier, and felt the entire slow build of relief from the past several minutes come crashing down around her in a fiery mess.

Fallon had been tired - no, exhausted. Visibly aged by stress, and so sad that just looking her properly in the eyes made Kirby feel like she wanted to cry herself, and now she was smiling. This wasn't right. This  _ felt  _ right, but it wouldn't end well for either of them.

Beside her, the brunette had stopped inching down her underwear and instead trailed the tips of her fingers over a constellation of freckles on her stomach. Her touch was so soft it felt more like a breeze, and when Kirby turned to face her properly, she was staring right back at her.

"I love you."

Kirby stared.

"I - come again?"

That had obviously been the wrong response, because Fallon immediately backpedaled. 

"No, I just - I'm sorry, that was so stupid, I just -"

"I love you too." Making sure not to hesitate a second time, Kirby reached out and grabbed her hand just as the touch was turning to an itch.

"Do you mean that?" Fallon asked.

Kirby nodded.

"Did it ever seem like I didn't?"

"No," Fallon replied, dropping her gaze and fixing her eyes on their interlocked hands, instead. "Not even when we were fighting."

"I'll probably love you forever," Kirby sighed, tucking her free hand behind her head and staring at the ceiling instead.

"You sound awfully... melancholy about it. Is that such a bad thing?"

"Depends what we're doing," the redhead replied, shrugging slightly.

It was quiet for another moment before Fallon shook her hand free from hers and then slid closer to her. Wrapping one leg around one of the other woman's thighs, she slid her hand across her waist and tucked her cheek against her shoulder. The robe splayed open across both of them like a weak excuse for a blanket, and as Kirby felt Fallon's breath against her neck even out slowly from tiredness, a sort of lightness breezed over her. She certainly wasn't happy - all of the momentary blissful near-normalcy had been sucked out of the room like a vacuum - but there was still relief. The more they talked, the better it would be - even if what was said wasn't satisfying at the time. 

Kirby wasn't sure how long they were lying still in the quiet for. The rain outside the window slowed to a stop and Fallon's even, near-sleep breathing shuddered into a shaky warning. Wordlessly pulling her in a little closer, Kirby politely pretended not to notice the growing warm, wet sensation on the side of her neck, or the way the closer she held her, the harder she started to cry.

Whether she thought that restraining her sobbing to a few squeaking whimpers or deep shaking breaths was subtle or just because she couldn’t bear the almost-quiet around them, Fallon lifted her head just a little after a few minutes and tried to explain.

“I’m just - I’m sorry for crying, I - I’m -”

Frowning and pulling her back in, shushing her quietly, Kirby brushed her hair back and then reached down to pull the robe around them both a little more as if in protection.

“Relax, I know. I miss you too.”


	35. Chapter 35

For the first time in a long time, Fallon didn't have a single dream. When she rolled over, shivering from the cold of the overly air-conditioned bedroom, she realized that she hadn't even noticed that she'd fallen asleep in the first place. It came flooding back to her quickly, though - the afternoon meeting, Kirby coming over, the two of them falling back into place before...

Before she'd freaked out, told her ex that she was in love with her, and cried all over her. Right.

It should have been a relief that the bed was empty. Facing Kirby would have been embarrassing, but she knew that she needed to. They'd have to talk at some point, and the sooner they got it over with, the better. If it was officially over, she wasn't going to move on until it was all on the table. She warmly realized that Kirby had tucked her in at some point before leaving her in the bed - they'd fallen asleep nude, but she was currently wrapped up in the knitted throw blanket from the chair near the window. Her suit was still strewn across the foot of the bed, and her silk robe was tangled around her uncomfortably, but clearly, an effort had been made. 

Sitting up and being pleasantly surprised when the first pounding sensation from her now-routine stress headache didn't appear, Fallon caught a glimpse of herself in the vanity across from the bed and groaned. Her liner and mascara were smudged all the way down to her cheeks, streaks of faded black leaving trails where her tears had been. Her lipstick was almost gone, a few clouded out patches remaining from her earlier activities with Kirby. On top of that, her hair was a disaster - a shower was in order, for sure.

The house felt even quieter than usual, and it gave Fallon far too much leeway to overthink. Everything had felt so  _ normal _ for the few short moments when she and Kirby had been together. She'd almost felt lighter - the closest she'd been to happy in months. She'd also forgotten exactly what sleeping with her was like, when it was like that. It was practically down to a mathematic formula - the first time they'd had sex after the breakup had been nothing like it. That had been familiar, but too fast - this had been them. She never felt quite as known as she did when it was just the two of them like that, with nothing between them. Kirby often complained that she was too closed off, or never let herself be properly vulnerable, but she didn't realize just how well she knew Fallon, in a way she didn't let anyone else know her. She hadn't felt loved like that in a while, and now that it was over so quickly, it burned to imagine it being written off as a mistake or a 'last time' just for closure. 

As she stepped under the hot water and steam, she thought about how Kirby had said she missed her, too. They kept using the same phrases, 'not again', 'one more', and 'mistake', but how could it have possibly been a mistake to finally talk to each other the way they had? It was becoming increasingly obvious that leaving everything as it was would be the real mistake. Like a year of tension being lifted from their combined shoulders - embarrassment be damned, Fallon did feel much better now that she'd cried it out.

Washing her hair and face also helped. She didn't have much on her plate for the rest of the day except to answer a couple of emails, and originally she had planned to stop in at the office and restock her mini-fridge there. It was going to be a long awards season, and she knew she'd be having more than a few late dinners at her desk in the upcoming weeks.

Now, though, she dug out a set of silk Versace pajamas and rehung her suit from earlier to be dry-cleaned. There was no reason for her to push herself into another panic attack when she was just beginning to feel a little better. She'd have a glass of wine, maybe settle in with a movie, and handle the rest of her tasks the following morning - after a real sleep under a real duvet.

Stepping into her slippers and pulling her damp hair around one shoulder to comb her fingers through it, Fallon wandered back to the vanity to start on her skincare routine and tried to push thoughts of Kirby from her mind - just long enough to let herself calm down. On top of the emotional rollercoaster the afternoon had been, physically, she hadn't done herself any favors by deciding to spill her heart out and effectively end their activities before they had a chance to... naturally conclude. 

Doing her skincare as quickly as possible, Fallon hurried downstairs for that glass of wine. She’d opened a bottle that morning, considering pregaming the meeting with Kirby and Heather from Vanity Fair earlier that day, but had ultimately decided against it. The bottle was still waiting for her on the counter with a stopper tucked into the top, and just as she was thinking about taking the bottle itself to the head, not bothering with a glass, she realized that there was someone in the yard.

Her heart pounded against the inside of her ribs in a panic, and she gripped the glass neck of the bottle in her hand so tightly it was shocking that it didn't crack and fall to the floor - but the moment her panic arrived, she realized that it was Kirby, and it vanished.

Setting the bottle down again and shaking the nerves out of her hands and arms, Fallon headed to the hardly-used back door from the kitchen, and pulled it open with an uncomfortably loud creak.

Kirby whirled around immediately, getting up from the poolside lounger that she had been perched on the end of.

"Hey... you're up."

"Yeah," Fallon approached the lounger slowly, gesturing for her to sit back down. "I... sorry for falling asleep on you earlier."

"Don't be sorry," Kirby insisted, doing a terrible facial rendition of 'there's nothing weird or uncomfortable about any of this' for an Oscar nominee. "I'll get out of your hair soon. I just wanted to make sure you were good. Also, there's... a lot of photographers out front."

"Oh, shit," Fallon breathed. "Really?"

"Yeah, I needed a phone charger and knew I had mine in my car, but... I don't really want to go out there right now."

"No, uh, that's okay. You can... stick around here, for a while. I wasn't doing anything, anyway. I don't want you to get swarmed."

"This would be a little hard to explain, anyway," Kirby gestured between them. "And... I thought we could talk. If you were feeling up for it. Are you? Feeling up for it?"

Fallon tried to catch her eye, but the redhead was deftly avoiding her gaze. 

“I don’t know… why wouldn’t I?”

“I mean,” Kirby finally looked up. “Are you okay?”

Fallon watched her for a beat and then stepped closer, sitting stiffly on the edge of the lounger next to her. 

“I don’t know if I’ve really been ‘ _ okay’  _ in a long time. But I’m okay to talk. About us, and…” she gestured back towards the bedroom window overlooking the yard with a nod of her head. “ _ that _ . I think we should.”

“I don’t think I have either,” Kirby admitted.

They sat quietly for another moment before Fallon finally spoke again.

"Really, and truly honestly: Do you think we were kidding ourselves the entire time? About... this?" She gestured between them.

Kirby reached below the lounger and picked up her cigarettes from the ground, dusting the pack off and then pulling one out along with her lighter.

"How so?"

"I just mean... feelings and relationships aren't the same thing. And weren't we always at our best when we were hiding things from each other?"

The unlit cigarette dangled from the other woman's mouth as her jaw dropped slightly. 

"No," she replied, a little louder than Fallon had been expecting, before seeming to reel in her indignation. "I don't think that at all. Do you? Really?"

Fallon shrugged, turning her gaze out to the pool, instead. The early evening air was surprisingly dry for the season, but the lack of wind made the water sit so still that it looked like glass.

“I think it kept the honeymoon haziness around for longer. The less you know about someone, the easier it is to love them.”

“Alice used to say something like that,” Kirby mused. “I think it was…  _ ‘to know you more is to love you less’. _ ”

“You did say she was smart,” Fallon replied carefully.

“Hell of a lot of good it did her,” Kirby replied gruffly around the cigarette, cupping her hands to the end of it as she lit it and took a long drag. “But you’re both wrong. Things got worse because of that. We didn't... fight because we were too honest. It was the hiding that made things worse - not the things themselves.”

"I don't know -" Fallon started, but Kirby cut her off.

"If that’s how you really feel, then tell me," Kirby turned to her, bringing her legs up onto the lounger and crossing them so she could face her properly. "Why did it take so long for you to fall in love with me? And when did you start falling out of love?"

"I didn't," she replied honestly. "I didn't - that isn't what I meant."

"The more I told you, the closer we got. Isn't that true?"

"I guess, but -"

"But nothing. You didn't love me less for knowing me. So are you just assuming I did? That's a lot of weight to project onto me - a lot of blame, too. You know we didn't break up because I suddenly fell out of love with you. I'm not going to let you have your little 'woe is me' moment over us as if  _ that  _ was what happened."

Feeling a little 'told' but not upset, Fallon fell quiet and then turned to tuck her legs up under herself, settling in for the conversation.

"I just meant... I think maybe all of this sort of stuff is easier when you don't have to see all of the ugliness."

"I don't  _ care _ about the ugliness, Fallon." Kirby sounded frustrated, but she was clearly trying to keep herself from raising her voice. "I still love those parts of you. Well... love is a strong word. I love you - but I don't get to nitpick which parts of you come with that. Maybe I don't love that you fight like a teenager with your stepmom, or that you overwork yourself all of the time, but I do love you, and you... trying to hide all of that away doesn't make any of those things not a part of you. It just makes you exhausted. And mean, honestly."

Fallon couldn't help but chuckle a little at that, glancing down at her lap for a moment and then worrying her lower lip between her teeth. It still gave her whiplash to think about how quickly they’d moved from professional to involved, and she had to keep reminding herself that Kirby had been working on trying to get to know her for a lot longer than she had originally realized. She hadn’t made it easy, by any means, but Kirby had still kept trying; insistent on getting under her skin from the first day that they met.

"I love knowing you,” Kirby continued. “That... that's the best part. I love  _ knowing  _ when you're about to blow up at Cristal over something small, or when you're going to need to be dragged away to bed kicking and screaming because you want to answer just one more email."

Catching her eye, Fallon pursed her lips and then reached out hesitantly, placing one hand on the other woman's knee. 

"So? What do we do? Where do we go from here?"

Kirby took another drag from her cigarette, and then butted it out on the leg of the lounger, letting the burnt-out filter fall to the ground. 

"Are we on the same page?" she asked, in lieu of an answer.

"I hope so," Fallon replied before she could think too hard, watching her face carefully.

They stared at one another for a moment, and then Kirby moved almost imperceptibly. Leaning in, Fallon pressed her hand more insistently to her knee for balance, then quickly pulled back and sat up straight as she realized the other woman was just reaching down to put her lighter away.

Sitting up to look at her, Kirby caught her eye and quirked an eyebrow.

"What're you -  _ oh _ . Were you about to -?"

" _ No! _ " Fallon could feel her cheeks flush but ignored it. "I just - no, I-"

"I didn't even finish my question. It looked like you were going to kiss me."

"I..." Fallon dropped her gaze and cleared her throat softly, only looking up again when she heard the other woman chuckle quietly.

"God, we have... so much work to do on the 'communication' thing."

Her words made Fallon laugh outright, the tension snapping. It felt amazing, but she still reflexively buried her face in her hands, shaking her head. She felt Kirby’s hands wrap around her own and pull them away before the redhead dipped her head into her view and fixed her with a slow smile.

“Don’t do that. I never hear you laugh anymore.”

Lowering her hands further as she got her giggling under control, Fallon watched her face for a more sure sign that she had been right.

“Come here.”

Surging forward almost before the redhead got a chance to finish her sentence, Fallon nearly toppled them both backward off of the lounger as she kissed her.

_ Just  _ maintaining the balance for both of them, Kirby gripped the arm of the chair and pushed them back to sit upright, slipping her free hand around Fallon’s waist and then pulling back to look at her.

“Wait, are you… wearing pajamas? What’s the occasion?” 

“I’m staying in tonight,” she explained, rolling her eyes when the redhead raised both eyebrows and let out a low whistle of surprise. “Oh, don’t. Do you… want to stick around? At least until the paparazzi is gone, I mean.”

Kirby’s hands dropped to her lower back, holding her still, nearly in her lap. 

“Just until the paparazzi leaves. I think you and I can take a minute… get some air. Think on everything.”

Fallon began to lean in closer, then reared back in alarm.

“Oh. Did you not… are we not…?”

“What? Getting back together?” Kirby asked. She sounded so relaxed that it was almost infuriating, or would have been if Fallon weren’t floating on a metaphorical cloud of relief. “I mean, unless I completely misread this, I thought…”

“No, no, I thought so too,” Fallon cut her off. “I just… you could stay.”

The tips of the redhead’s fingers crawled slowly up her back towards her shoulders, lighting up her nerves even through the silk material, and she suppressed the urge to shiver.

“You look scared.”

“I am,” Fallon replied honestly. “A little bit.”

Kirby’s fingers paused in place for a moment, like they were stuttering to a stop, and then she spoke again,

“I think I am too,” and then, like she was reading the brunette’s mind and finding the perfect words to vocalize everything she’d been feeling, she added: “But I’m a lot more scared of letting all of this go when both of us clearly have the energy to try again. We’ll be okay. Let’s take it a little slower, this time.”

"And what would that entail, exactly?" Fallon narrowed her eyes in an attempt to focus, leaning back a little into the other woman's hands to try to still their movements.

Kirby looked thoughtful for a moment.

"A little more time apart. Or rather, a little less time right on top of each other all of the time." They both glanced down at their position, before Kirby grinned, adding on, "Not  _ physically _ . That part is fine."

Fallon shifted, making herself more comfortable, and Kirby continued, 

"I want to get to know you again. We can get to know each other. I think we missed a few key details in our hurry, the first time around."

"That sounds... fair," Fallon agreed.

Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her pajama bottoms and she groaned quietly, digging it out and peering at the screen irritably. Will's name flashed momentarily before returning to the call waiting alert, and Fallon abruptly remembered the stack of responsibilities that would be waiting for her when she got back to work in the morning.

"Who is it?" Kirby asked.

"Will," she sighed, hitting 'decline' and setting the phone aside on the lounger. "It can wait."

"What is it about?"

"A job," she replied. "That I won't be taking. I hooked him up with Genie McCarty for his indie and she had this genius idea to try to tack me on as a producer... I'm not doing it."

"What?" Kirby sat up straighter, almost dislodging Fallon from her comfortable spot. "No, you  _ so _ have to. Why would you pass that up?" She reached over and grabbed the discarded phone, leaning back a little when Fallon quickly tried to take it back from her.

“I have to focus on other things right now. Like you, and your awards season.” Fallon lurched forward as the other woman childishly held the phone up over her head in one hand, slipping her other arm around Fallon's back and holding her back as well as she could in their position.

The pair of them nearly fell back again, so Kirby conceded, handing back the phone, but not before saying, “This is my third time around, Fallon. I think if you need to focus on other things, I won’t drown. My priorities are shifted, anyway. I have more important things to think about. Things I care more about working on.”

Snatching the phone back and moving to put it away, again, Fallon paused and looked at the other woman curiously.

"Do you really think I should do it?"

"I think you really  _ want _ to do it. You're just waiting for me to agree so that if you fail it’s not all on you."

Fallon blushed.

"I - well - I  _ do  _ want to. I just don't think it’s the right time."

"There's never a right time for anything, Fallon. The last couple of years should have taught you that much. Call him back. Take the job." Kirby nodded to the phone in her hands.

She looked down at it and rolled it between both hands for a moment before taking a deep breath, and nodding.

“You’re right.”

“Often,” Kirby replied quickly, smiling genuinely when Fallon caught her eye.

“Okay. Okay, I’m going to do it.” Picking the phone up and tabbing over to her recent calls, Fallon tapped Will’s name under ‘missed’ and watched as the phone reconnected before raising it to her ear. “Hey, Will... Yeah, I figured that’s why you were calling. I’d… be happy to. Let’s set up a meeting and go over it - can you meet at the Carrington office, maybe tomorrow morning? I uh… I can’t tonight, I have something important to do. Yeah, tomorrow is perfect.”

Kirby leaned back against the arm of the lounger and surveyed her, almost throwing off her concentration with the look in her eye alone.

“I’m looking forward to it. It’ll be good. Bye.”

“What’re these important plans that you have for tonight?” Kirby asked, watching as she hung up. “I told you I wasn’t staying the night.”

“Who said anything about staying the night?” Fallon feigned confusion, setting the phone aside and then leaning in to close the gap between them. She pressed her lips to the other woman’s, then pulled back just enough to mumble, “This, right here, is good for me.”


	36. Chapter 36

**_FOUR MONTHS LATER_ **

The slightly overcast sky flung a merciful shield of protection over Los Angeles that Kirby was eternally grateful for. As positive of an impact as the bright sunny weather had on her overall demeanour, the little hint of coolness kept her from feeling delirious from the heat and made all of the over-saturated views around her ‘pop’ without her having to squint. 

A lot of that color seemed to be bleeding outward from Fallon's front entrance and driveway, lately. Freshly planted, drought-resistant GMO red roses bloomed from their bushes in a thick perimeter of the small lawns on either side of the drive itself. During the day, like this, they were a refreshing breath of permanent spring - at night, lit up by the runway-like solar-powered stake lights buried within them, they were unfairly romantic. It was nearly impossible to ever say 'no' to her girlfriend after a slow drive to the front door to drop her off on some evenings.

Making sure that the security gate was closed completely behind her before driving any further, Kirby glanced in her rearview mirror and rolled her eyes at the sight of a few stray photographers milling around the entrance and waiting for a closer look.

Once she was sure it was all clear, she pulled further up the drive and killed the ignition, glancing at her phone on the passenger side seat to see if she had any new notifications. Fallon had yet to answer her text from earlier, but both her and Allison’s cars were parked near where Kirby had pulled up - the visit would be a surprise, then.

She climbed out of the car and headed for the front door, ignoring her own 'emergencies only' key in favour of knocking, instead. 

Allison opened the door quickly, beaming at the taller woman as she pulled her sunglasses off and tucked them into her hair. 

"Morning, Allison," she greeted, lifting one arm to glance at her watch. "Or, afternoon. Fallon here?"

The other woman shifted the packed-looking day planner she was holding from one arm to the other, shut the door behind the redhead, and then used her free arm to take her jacket as she shrugged it off. She'd adjusted fairly quickly to more clerical work from on-set assisting - Kirby had to wonder if the original offer she'd helped set up between her and Fallon was going to be extended. At first, 'filling in' for a few months until Fallon found a suitable replacement - with the added bonus of her industry contacts being shared - seemed like it would be too long of a wait, but Allison seemed so comfortable now that Kirby wasn't sure she'd ever bother going back.

"She's in the office. Should I let her know you're here?"

"Nah," Kirby sidestepped her with a quick smile. "I'll just head up. Thank you."

She could hear Fallon's voice as she reached the second-floor landing - she almost sounded flirty, but in her very specific business-mode way that Kirby had long gotten over being jealous of. As she approached the second-bedroom-turned-office door she slowed her pace down, trying to make out if the phone call was a good or bad one before potentially startling the other woman.

" _ Yeah, I bet you would like that. I - what? Oh, yeah. Thank you, I'll pass on the congratulations. No, I'm not really sure what's going through her head, but whatever. It’ll make her happy, I don't care. _ "

Almost tiptoeing closer, Kirby leaned over to peer into the opening of the slightly ajar office door. 

Fallon was situated at her desk, leaning back in her seat comfortably despite the mountain of paperwork on the desk in front of her. Everything about her demeanour seemed to have shifted over the last few months. She was still very much herself - driven, often headstrong, and always thinking two steps ahead - but for lack of a better word, she seemed… better. The passion she had funnelled into working with Will had opened up a number of new doors. At first, Kirby had been overwhelmed on her behalf - and worried that attempting to straddle her clients at Carrington alongside being interested in  _ more  _ producing was going to send her headfirst into another work-stress-related breakdown, but Fallon had risen to the occasion beautifully; agreeing to drop Kirby from her PR roster after the upcoming Oscar trail was finished and keeping on only Will and Scarlett had certainly helped, but Kirby knew in the back of her mind that it wouldn’t be long before Fallon left Carrington altogether. She’d bitten her tongue to keep from suggesting it on more than one occasion, but could tell Fallon was leaning towards the idea. It had to be  _ her  _ idea, though, on her own time. Kirby understood that.

"Yeah - well that's not what I heard from Amy's people - Amy? Amy Adams? Stay on the same page as me, here; come on, now."

The name-drop made Kirby roll her eyes, pushing the door open further and stepping more clearly into view as she rapped her knuckles against the frame.

Glancing up and visibly lighting up, Fallon quickly cut off whoever was on the other line.

“Okay - Okay, hang on, my  _ most important, Oscar-nominee client  _ walked in. Can you hold?” She waited a beat, then reached for the phone base, hitting a button and then leaving the phone resting face down on the desk between the stacks of papers. “I didn’t realize you were coming by.” 

“Just finished breakfast with Will,” Kirby replied quickly, smiling at her as she approached the desk. “We haven’t had time to catch up in… months. But, I have something for you.”

“Oh, you do?” Fallon sat up a little straighter as Kirby began to dig in her purse.

Pulling out a small, simple picture frame, Kirby brushed some dust from it and held it out for the other woman to take. Nestled in the floating glass was a script-side dated almost four months earlier. ‘ _ Storms’  _ \- the title of Will’s long-awaited passion project - took up the majority of the top half of the A4 sheet of paper, but much more important were the credits below:

_ Written and Directed by Will Chevale _

_ Produced by Fallon Carrington _

Fallon’s eyes darted across the frame as she realized what she was looking at, and when she looked back up at Kirby, she could tell that the other woman was trying her hardest to arrange her features into an expression of ‘impressed, but not  _ too  _ touched’. The little emotional defence made Kirby have to resist the urge to roll her eyes, smiling to herself.

“I might have let it slip to him that you’re the sentimental type.”

The brunette glanced up at her again and narrowed her eyes playfully, but Kirby continued before she could complain.

“I know it’s not much but… we thought maybe, for the new office?” She gestured around them. “Well, same office, new career, I mean. Reset the vibes in here.”

Fallon stood, coming around the desk and leaning in to kiss her cheek.

“Remind me to thank Will,” she told her.

“Oh, no,” Kirby shook her head and gestured back at the door she’d come through. “That’s what you have Allison for.”

Ignoring the playful jab, Fallon wandered to the bar cart and gently propped the frame up against a vase of congratulatory flowers already in place there - a gift from Cristal.

“Do you want a drink?”

“No,” Kirby sighed. “I can’t stay. I have my appointment in a little bit and should take off before the shift-change traffic.”

Fallon whirled around, already pouting.

“Wasn't one of your New Years resolutions to spend more time with me? I’ve barely seen you all week, and if you leave now you’re just going to get swarmed by paparazzi, anyway."

“Yeah, I’m sure my therapist would love that excuse," Kirby grinned. "Besides, I'm going to be spending a whole week giving you so much undivided attention that you're going to be sick of me."

"Are not," Fallon insisted. "We're going to be swamped with your friends and family - not that I'm complaining about that part, but... are you  _ suuuure  _ you don't want to come over after your appointment and spend the night?"

Kirby heard her intention in her tone before she looked her in the eye, and quickly put both hands up in defense. 

“Fallon, don’t.”

The brunette laughed outright, closing the space between them quickly.

“You act like I’m going to eat you.”

“ _ Well…” _

Pulling at her hips, Fallon stepped back until she was pressed to her desk, tugging Kirby closer still and tilting her head up to stare at her with wide, hopeful eyes.

“You know the rules,” the redhead sing-songed, despite her own resolve crumbling. 

Licking her lips slowly, Fallon practically batted her eyes and nodded slowly, looking down between them faux-dejectedly.

“Right.”

“You better get out of this fake-pouting habit before we leave,” Kirby told her. “My mom isn’t going to let me live that down. Or you, for that matter.”

“Just add it to the list of things that they will inevitably hate about me,” Fallon replied, looking up at her again. She said it playfully, even rolling her eyes at herself as she spoke - as if the entire concept of Kirby’s family detesting her was a silly, inconsequential joke, and not a genuine fear that Kirby knew she was harbouring without saying aloud.

“They’re going to love you… and love making fun of you, if you keep pouting like that. Actually, I don’t know if you have thick enough skin for my family - you Los Angeleans are very sensitive. Maybe we’ll just spend this trip on ourselves and  _ next  _ time you can meet them.”

“ _ Hey!”  _ Fallon snapped indignantly, her face shifting from annoyed to good-naturedly embarrassed in a split second when she caught the look on Kirby’s face. She surged up and kissed her roughly, as if replacing what would have been a shove, and Kirby couldn’t help but laugh into it.

“This isn’t - convincing me - not to make fun of you -” she insisted between kisses, wrapping her fingers around Fallon’s waist and prying her off with both hands.

“Fine,” the brunette huffed, already closing the space between them again to kiss her once more. “Whatever. You win. C’mere.”

She was gentler, this time, as if finally internalizing ‘catching more flies with honey than vinegar’ for the first time. Her hands slid up the redhead’s waist softly, but she barely felt it, very quickly getting lost in the other woman. It was almost convincing enough to have her change her mind about the ‘no sleepovers’ rule -  _ almost. _

“Fallon, you -”

“Shh,” she mumbled, pressing her lips to the corner of her mouth softly when she pulled back. “I know, I know, you have to go, just -”

“No, Fallon, you’re still on hold.”

Ripping back in alarm, Fallon gasped and wiped at the corner of her mouth quickly with one finger, darting around the desk so quickly she almost knocked Kirby out of the way to do so.

“Oh my god. Okay - get out. Go.” She gestured at the door frantically with a waving motion. “ _ Shoo.  _ Call me later.”

Laughing - and needing to cover her mouth to silence herself as Fallon picked up the phone again - Kirby pulled the office door mostly closed behind herself and headed back down the stairs.

As she pulled her car keys from her bag, Allison rounded the corner from the living room, heels skittering on the floor in her hurry to catch up to her.

“Kirby, wait - your jacket. I had it hung up. Let me go get it.”

Turning around to face her, Kirby cleared her throat and then pulled her sunglasses down to put them back on.

“You know what… it’s fine. I’ll be back later tonight,” she knew her words were an admittance of defeat, but was in far too good of a mood to be embarrassed. “Can you check to make sure the gate gets closed behind me? Oh, and Fallon wanted to be reminded to send Will something to thank him for the office-warming gift.”

Flipping her planner open and scrawling something down without missing a beat, Allison fixed her with a quick smile.

“You’re almost like  _ my  _ assistant.”

Kirby chuckled.

“Yeah, we’ll see how the Oscars go next month - maybe I’ll be looking for a new job.”

“Oh,” Allison frowned. The self-deprecating joke had clearly put her a little on the spot. “No, I’m sure - I think this is your year.”

“That’s sweet,” Kirby promised. “I was mostly kidding. It’s not that important, anyway.”

“I guess not even being here for it will help,” Allison continued, cocking her head to the side.

“Yeah,” Kirby mused. “Watching from the living room - with all the commercials - in Australia won’t be too bad. Except for the time difference.”

“You must be looking forward to it, though.”

“Definitely. I think it’ll be good to get out of here for a little bit - for Fallon, too.”

“She’s barely stopped talking about it,” Allison spilled, smiling sweetly for a moment before seeming to realize she’d overshared and looking immediately worried. “Don’t - don’t tell her I told you that.”

Grinning, Kirby shook her head.

“I won’t. Talk to you later, Allison.” 

“Have a good day!” 

Swinging the front door open, Kirby sighed contently at the warmth that immediately poured in, lighting up the entire foyer in gold.

“ _ Ugh _ , look at  _ that _ . How could I not?”

Turning to wave over her shoulder, Kirby hiked up her purse and stepped out into the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think... I can finally step away from this Bojack-esque Hollywood AU now. Thank you Amanda as always for beta-reading basically everything I write, but especially this & WNB. And thank you to everyone who put up with me beating this dead horse of an alternate universe until it was long past dead but I was finally ready to be finished with it.


End file.
